


Bad Sam

by Lust_And_Stardust



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossroads Deals & Demons, Demon Blood Addiction, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Monster Sam, Multiple Universes Colliding, Victim Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 06:12:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 43,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7088545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lust_And_Stardust/pseuds/Lust_And_Stardust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another universe, Sam stayed on the demon blood and went bad. With nothing left to lose, Dean finally did something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please take note of the warnings. Chapter 2 contains the scene that calls for them. It's a horrific scene of abuse and sexual violence by demon-blood-crazed Sam against Dean. The rest of the story is about stopping this abuse and healing from it.

Sam deliberately slams the door of the Impala, jangles the keys at the door and kicks it with his foot to open it, knowing it terrifies Dean. A wicked grin curves his lips. "Honey, I'm home." He's got a bag of takeout, having eaten his at the nice diner first. It's Dean's favorite, fries and a bacon cheeseburger, not that he's going to get to eat them hot. But the smell will make him crazy and desperate to do anything Sam wants. And he's got a special plan for tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter the warnings are about, please [skip ahead to Chapter 3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7088545/chapters/16112086) if it might upset you.

This

is

the

chapter

with

the

very

violent

and

upsetting

scene. 

 

Be

warned!

 

-

 

Making sure the doors are locked again he opens the door to the basement, flicking on the single bare light bulb that hangs from the ceiling. He sets the bag of food on the stairs, his eyes tracking to where Dean is sitting on his 'bed' on the floor. "Has my puppy been a good boy? Didn't spoil yourself did you?" Gracefully moving closer, his nose already telling him Dean held his bladder all day. Taking the keys out of his pocket, he unlocks the padlock at the join of the thick leather collar Dean has on. "Go clean up for me, and you better clean up inside too."

The basement has a very sparse corner to the side of the stairs where Dean sleeps on a large dog bed, the rest of the room past the staircase is plush and well decorated. A large bed dominates half of the space there; the other half has a very special array of sex props and an armoire he keeps his toys in for Dean. If he's very good he gets the bed, or if Sam is feeling tender towards him. Most of the time he gets the chair, or the shackles hanging from the ceiling, sometimes the array of furniture-like props to pose and hold him in any way Sam wants to use him.

Dean has been living like this for a while now... he doesn't know how long. He tried to count the days at first but Sam caught him at it and punished him by keeping him in the dark, so that even if he made marks anywhere, he wouldn't be able to see them. Sam hasn't always treated him like a dog, only since the last time he tried to run away. And he doesn't know when that was, anymore. The smell of food makes Dean ravenous, but his bladder is full to bursting and he _must_ please Sam above all things. When Sam unlocks his collar, he licks Sam's hand. He isn't supposed to talk, because dogs can't. Of course, Sam can change the rules anytime he wants to.

Patting his head and sending him on his way, Sam takes off his clothing, hanging them inside his wardrobe for later. He doesn't do anything to himself to get ready, Dean gets him anyway he is - even fresh from a run or working out and stinking. He likes to make Dean lick his skin clean before a shower.

Tonight he's had a wicked idea and finds the baster, its normal purpose was to slowly put an enema into Dean, making him hold it while he plays with adding air or taking out the liquid to mess with him. And Dean whimpers and cries so sweetly when he does this, his insides are so sore and tender Sam can keep him hard and on edge for almost four hours. And once he's lubed up well, it's better than any woman he's stuck his cock into, tight and gripping.

Dean has to be as quick but as thorough as possible. Keeping Sam waiting is as bad as not being clean enough. And he can't get any idea of Sam's mood, though it doesn't seem bad. Yet. Even a happy Sam is a dangerous Sam, but an angry Sam is a _terror_. Dean isn't even sure whether Sam, with all the things he can do, can actually read Dean's mind or if it's just the same way he always read Dean, back when they were kids, when Sam was still his Sam.

If only he could bring that Sam back.

Dean finishes up, knowing he can't waste any more time, and still longing for that food. If he offends Sam right away he might not get it at all. Deep breath. And he goes back out.

Looking up at the slap of bare feet on concrete before Dean hits the soft thick carpeting of the bedroom area, his body is clean and hairless from the face down. He would take him for that electrolysis treatment, but they wouldn't do an unconscious patient, and it took several treatments. He could do it himself, but it was more of a punishment for Dean to have to shave himself - all over, and it would  deprive Sam of a reason to beat him if he didn't have to. "You know the drill." Smacking the lowered pommel horse and waiting for Dean to drape himself over it, hold his ass cheeks wide open so Sam can inspect him. He'd broken his arm the time he didn't remember to clean well, he'd wanted to rim him, but there was the faintest trace of fecal matter when he checked. Dean would not forget again. He puts on a white latex glove and shoves his finger in dry once Dean has assumed the position, moving the digit around and pulling out to inspect the latex. "Good boy, you can have half your french fries now. Don't take too long about it, I want you back just like that in two minutes."

"Thank you," sincerely, and he gets down and hurries to obey, counting the fries so he only eats exactly half. It's actually easy for Dean to keep quiet even when something hurts, when he knows it's going to happen. Sam is very good at surprising sounds out of him, though. Sam's imagination has no limit. Dean has no dignity, no privacy, no rights. He looks longingly at the wrapped burger, but knows from experience that even if he were to try to just grab it, tear it open and devour it, Sam would literally beat it out of him till he puked it back up, then probably fuck him with his face down in it. You don't break Sam's rules. Sam is like Dad, but so much stronger. Too strong.

Sam lazily palms himself watching the clock, smiling when Dean puts down the fries and positions himself as before, a small twinge of disappointment he doesn't get to punish him. But then, he doesn't need a reason to punish him. With that he smacks Dean's upturned ass - HARD. Watching in delight as the mark pinks up and swells with blood, he caresses it, scraping it lightly with his nails. "Good boy. Did you have any wet dreams today?"

"No," truthfully. He slept as much as he could, but mostly in misery. He'd expected to be hurt this time, too, because Sam doesn't quite like it when he doesn't do anything wrong. There's no safe path.

Not using any precursors, he just coats his cock in lube and pushes in, forcing Dean to take it. "So tight, always such a good tight little hole for me." He puts the fingertips of one hand - clawed out - and pulls them down Dean's spine. Not digging in or hurting, just a firmly pressured rake with out his fingernails digging in. And just as Dean relaxes into the almost caress and the snaps of his hips, he pushes his powers out through his fingertips and *SHREDS* the muscles of Dean's back. Pouring more power out, the black curls of it sinking into Dean's lungs causing agony.

This is nothing to do with expectations, Dean screams and screams, writhing helplessly, and Sam just keeps on fucking him. Then he can't even scream, his lungs are burning, he gasps and whimpers and waits to black out, prays to black out. It's rare, but it's still worth hoping for. His struggles weaken as he can't breathe. Maybe he'll die this time. Then he'd get away. But even now, even like this, he doesn't want to leave Sam.

The power pushing into Dean weakens as Sam nears his peak, using both hands to grip and bruise Dean's hips as he drills into him. Roaring with his completion, not caring if Dean cums or not, just feeding off of the waves of agony from him is just as satisfying to him. Pulling out and smacking his ass - not as hard as the last time. "Keep it in. I've got plans for that cum."

He barely understands what Sam is saying, but as oxygen returns to his brain the words sink in. He nods, still gasping. He's hard, he often is, his body longs for Sam's no matter what Sam does. But sometimes Sam doesn't let him cum for days at a time.

Reaching back to the bed to get the turkey baster, inserting the tip after squeezing out the air, "Open up." Pressing further in and sucking out his cum, tipping the baster up and squeezing the bulb again so he can reinsert and get more of his cum. Feeling he has most of it he walks around to Dean's face, "Open wide, don't dribble or you won't eat."

Dean, unable to see what Sam is doing, nonetheless recognizes the feel of the baster going into him and whimpers. Sam loves that thing. He uses it on Dean all the time and makes Dean clean it afterwards. Dean hates it, it's so humiliating, it's like what he imagines as being probed by aliens, the hard tip of some nasty tentacle. When Sam finally pulls it out of him he knows what's next but he trembles with disgust at what he has to do. He opens his mouth.

Feeding him his cum, smirking as Dean sucks to get it all. "Such a good slut, now lick my cock clean and you can have 5 minutes to eat."

This, he's certainly done before. He's not as hungry now, of course, but that was probably the point. Having licked Sam's cock clean to his satisfaction, he finishes his meal, counting the time in his head so he doesn't take too long. His back hurts, and his breathing is a little funny, making him lightheaded.

Putting the baster in the blue bucket for cleaning, Sam looks over his toys, debating what he wants to do next. He'd love to see some really hung guy pounding the shit out of Dean if he wasn't so possessive about him. Looking critically over him, he would need to take him out in the back yard for a few hours, he was looking pale and sickly.

Dean swallows the last of his meal - cold, but good - and looks back at Sam, wondering what he's done wrong, not sure if he even has, but Sam is frowning. He chances a look down, but he didn't get any food on himself, or the floor. That was the obvious possibility. His mind and his instincts and experience have all been boiled down to this room underground, the size of his life now. Sam may as well be God.

Deciding he was bored with sex for the night he flicks his hand at Dean and sends him flying across the room to slam into the bare concrete wall. Another flick of his fingers and a TV drops from the ceiling at the foot of his bed, turning on and playing a rather hard core porn channel. Smirking to himself as he settles on the bed, his powers levitating up some props and a few toys out of his wardrobe. Dean's body comes sailing back through the air to be suspended over his bed. "Hmmm... hard to see all of you." bending him in half so his ass and cock are visible, a mirror hovers so he can watch Dean's mouth.

A big dildo rises and plugs Dean's mouth, fucking in and out, a length of lace wraps around his cock and pulses tight and loose while a ping pong paddle twacks the head of his cock. "Oh yes... that is nice." On screen a girl is taking a man's very large black cock up her ass and making hungry noises. "Yes.. I believe that will do as well." Another flick of his fingers and his largest dildo comes out of the closet and moves slowly past Dean's line of vision to get to his ass. Taking it in hand he rams it deep inside him without warning or lube.

Dean's screams are muffled by the dildo in his mouth and tears are leaking from his eyes, dripping down onto the bed. He'll probably be punished for that too. He closes his eyes and struggles to go somewhere, anywhere else in his mind, but there's too much happening to his body, including pleasure, and it keeps him from being able to drift away. He writhes, knowing it gives Sam pleasure to see him hurt, and long past the phase of trying to hide it to deny Sam what he wants. Sam gets what he wants.

Sam torments him until he cums, using his powers to send all of the toys to the bucket, "Clean those later." Dean is sagged on his bed, his ass raw and bleeding. Curling his lips in disdain, "You've bled on my comforter. You're so weak!" Flinging him against the far wall, then again and again. With a smirk and point of a finger, a force rips open Dean's skin down his chest, across the thick part of each thigh. With his body still pinned up to the wall, Sam saunters over so he can lean in to lick the blood from the freely flowing gashes. "Mmm.. always so tasty. But I think I want a little something exotic." Flipping him around and licking the blood from Dean's bleeding anus, tongue digging in ruthlessly. Smacking his lips in satisfaction, flipping him back around.

"Mmm... and now.. the piece de resistance." Raking suddenly very sharp nails down Dean's soft raw cock and splitting the skin in several long slashes. Closing his mouth around him and sucking at him while shoving a pair of fingers up his ass to forcefully stimulate his prostate and make him cum.

Dean cums screaming and crying and finally, finally he finds a place in his mind he can go, memories well worn from his constant yearning, the time before when Sam still loved him, or when his love didn't hurt. His Sam, his own, they were each other's first kiss, trembling in the dark. He would do anything, give anything to have that back.

Finding Dean slack he shakes him like a rag doll and just drops him on the floor. "Pathetic." Spitting on him before he makes his way upstairs for a hot soak in the jacuzzi tub, his own body satisfied and drunk from the blood, he forgets to lock up his pet or the door to the basement.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean lies there for a few minutes, then when he moves, he's slow with pain but focused with purpose. He pulls Sam's clothes out of the wardrobe - he has none of his own anymore - they are too big for him in every way, but he has to get where he's going. After that it doesn't matter.

He slips out of the house and goes in search of the things he needs, the picture of himself is the hardest. And at every moment he expects Sam to realize he's gone,  and with every sound come to find him. But all he needs to do is bury this box here, at the crossroads. Down on his hands and knees, he pats the earth in place over it and wonders how long he'll have to wait.  

There is a soft whooshing sound that heralds the demon’s appearance,  the short man comes closer, sniffing the air and savoring the taste of pain and utter despair in the huddled figure before him. "What can I do for you?"

Dean finds it completely normal to have a conversation where he is on his knees and the other person is standing over him. He doesn't have to look up as far, though. "I guess I'm here to sell my soul." He waits half expecting to be told it isn't worth buying.

Reaching out and cupping the already doomed man’s face with his hand, the palm a bit callused like he'd done hard labor. Thumb stroking over his lower lip, "He already owns it in a way." The utter hopelessness in those green orbs strikes a note of pity in the crossroads demon. "What do you want, sweeting?"

"I want my Sam back," and he doesn't even know if this is something you can buy with your soul. "I want my good Sam back, my Sam that loves me. I don't care how."

Dropping to his knee after dropping his handkerchief down so he doesn't mess up his nice suit, his eyes seeming soft and kind, "That's a tall order." Still cupping the young man's face in one hand, "Go to your uncle's, I'll find a way to do it," gladly leaning in to claim those plush lips to seal the contract.

Dean has never heard that tongue is required to seal a contract but before he can ask about it, the demon vanishes. He has to make his way to Uncle Bobby's. It's been a long time since he stole a car, but it's a lot like stealing a bicycle, you just remember when you're desperate like you've been doing it all along.

Inside the house, the crossroad demon looks at  the younger sibling asleep in the bed, not even concerned if his older brother was alive or injured. Shaking his head, "I get scum and filth, they can't be saved, but you... are something else. And I think it's time someone took it out of your ass for a change." With a wicked smile he snaps his fingers and a vortex opens in the wall beside the bed, sucking and pulling in anything not nailed down - including the rather naked figure on the bed. Meeting startled hazel green eyes with a smirk, "Ta. Say hello to Dean for me." And just like that, Sam is yanked into the vortex which closes like it was never there.

***

In the bunker, Sam is down in the lower levels looking for a book that was referenced in another about the Mark. He isn't sleeping well, worrying about Dean is constant and gnawing. A maelstrom suddenly fills the room, making the pages of the book in his hands flutter, turning his head he gasps at the portal there on the wall. "DE - - - " He's yanked through and spat out in the middle of a road surrounded by wheat fields on either side. Looking skyward, "Cas?? Castiel! Help! It's Sam... Sam Winchester...?"

No one responds, so he just gathers himself up and picks a direction. Walking until the sun sets and he's cold through before an old truck lumbers past at a crossroad. It stops and backs up, the old tanned farmer rolling down his window and calling out, "Son? You lost?"  

Sam breaks into a jog, his long legs eating up the rough road, "Yeah... I... " rubbing at the back of his head, "was out with some friends, guess I had a bit too much to drink and they must have thought it was funny to leave me out here."     

The farmer nods in understanding, "Come on and get in, town's about fifteen minutes up the road."

Gratefully he clambers in and warms himself up with the vents blasting at him. At the gas station in town, he uses the bit of cash in his wallet to get a cup of coffee and scope out a car he can pinch. There's not much, but an hour later he's at a larger truck stop and gets a faster ride, but it's the sign on the interstate that shakes him to the core. _Happy St. Patrick's Day! Luck of the Irish Fair running from March 1st to March 18th at the County Fair Grounds_ .   March?!? It was the height of July, the outside air warm and sticky even in Kansas. He finds a newspaper at the next gas stop and has to sit down before he falls down. March 7th, 2008. He'd gone back seven years. _Bobby_. He had to get to Bobby, he would be the only one who could explain any of this.

 ***

Bobby looks mournfully at the huddled form of Dean on his couch, completely covered in a blanket. Dean won't sleep in a bed no matter what he does or says. When Bobby tried to make him, Dean kept crawling out and lying down on the floor like a dog. So Bobby had to compromise and put him on the couch, where Dean has been sleeping for almost twelve hours. Rubbing his hand over his face and down his beard, he then pours himself a long drink of whiskey. This was his fault for not stopping things early on.

Dean's shivering, battered body told a whole Stephen King anthology of horror stories. Before Sam went bad, Bobby knew, the brothers had had themselves what you'd call a _forbidden relationship_ , but... _this_ ... and the whole time Bobby helped him, bandaging him and bathing him and getting him to drink a healing tonic he’d cobbled together, Dean mumbled about his Sam, who loved him. It isn't _right_ that this should have happened.

And the real horror of it is, Sam is going to come for him, and there is _nothing_ Bobby can do to stop it - except maybe kill Dean and put him out of his misery, and Bobby Singer does not have the cold stones for that, no he does not. He pours another drink to better contemplate all of his sins and what he’s let happen to his boy. To both his boys.

It takes Sam nearly nine hours to get from where he was to Bobby's, finally he parks the car near a truck stop and hitches a ride into town where he can grab a taxi out toward Singer Salvage. It's near sun up now as he walks up the long road, the scrap yard finally in sight. He's cold again, not having the money to buy a jacket and not feeling right in stealing one when he's got some stashed here. He tries the front door and it's locked, he doesn't keep Bobby's key with him anymore, being that the place is a burned out husk in his time. A keepsake key to what was home a few years ago is in a drawer at the bunker that technically isn't known about yet. The whole _wrong time_ thing is making his head hurt. He knocks and rings the bell, waiting while acid eats at his guts.

Seeing that Bobby has drunk himself to oblivion and passed out in the recliner on the other side of the room, Dean slowly gets to his feet to answer the door. He knows it will be Sam, and it is, of course it is, and though there's something - _different_ about him, he doesn't dare stare at him. He lets Sam come in, shuts the door and then drops to his knees. The demon failed him after all, and it's time to pay for running away. Sam had threatened to keep him in a cage like a veal calf if he ever ran away again.

 _"Dean?!?"_ What the Hell! Dean looks worse than he's ever seen him, battered and thin, like he's not eating, only by now Dean can scam pool with the best so he knows Dean's getting enough to eat. Dropping to his knees in alarm when Dean drops to his and BOWS! "DEAN! Dean are you ok?" Reaching for him, hands hurriedly but gently patting over him, trying to find the source of injury.

Dean has been taught not to cringe, but to hold still for whatever Sam chooses to dole out. So he holds still under Sam's hands, but tense with anticipation. "Please don't blame Bobby," he blurts out, to get it said in case Sam orders him not to speak. "Please, Sam, please don't hurt him, he took care of me for you. Hurt me, I'm sorry."

Incredulously, "Hurt you? Dean... I'd never hurt you." He tries to get Dean to his feet, "What happened? Who did this to you? A shifter?" That's all he can think, a shifter that looks like him, the way Dean's talking.

Dean finds himself standing, his thoughts whirling around. Is this a game? What is he supposed to say? "You hurt me. Because - I'm weak and pathetic. And I deserve it. I'm sorry I ran away. I swear Bobby had nothing to do with it."

Sam takes Dean by the hand and gently leads him to the sofa, getting him to sit down with him, "Dean... I'm not going to hurt you. But... I'm confused. You're telling me _I've_ been the one hurting you, that I beat you up like this."

Dean flinches from sitting side by side with Sam, which is something he never allows, but of course Sam can always change the rules whenever he wants to. He dares a look at Sam's face, trying to gauge what he wants, and sees - he is older. Years older. In a day? He stares, forgetting his manners. How is he... _older?_

Getting his first good look at Dean, things click into place for Sam, this Dean is much younger. It isn’t the first time something has slung them through time and space, at least he hopes this Dean has had that experience or this is going to be really hard to explain. Taking Dean's hand and placing it on the side of his face, "I know you probably won't believe this, but I'm not from this time... I think. Right now I'm 32, and you're what... 28, 29?"

"I'm 28," says Dean, frowning. He's touching Sam's face, and Sam's hand is touching his, and there's a warmth to Sam's touch that has not been there for a long time. "You mean - you get better in the future? You stop drinking the blood?" There's pathetic hope in his face. He can endure so much of it if he knows it will stop someday.

Sam's eyes dilate impossibly wide in horror, "I... I'm still drinking _demon blood???"_

Dean stares at him in a way the Sam he knows would never tolerate. "Yes. You've been drinking it for years. Nobody can stop you. You're too powerful."

Sagging with a grieved look on his face, "I... God Dean, I'm so sorry." Keeping his touch gentle with him, "I think  I'm not just from the future, but an alternate reality, we've encountered something like this before with an Angel named Gabriel, and Castiel, and I think someone else too. Our lives are really fucked up. I did drink blood for a bit, but then you - that is, my Dean and Bobby threw me in the safe room and forced me sober and I haven't touched it since." He wouldn't tell Dean about Lucifer just yet and when he'd had to drink it by the gallons, but that might not happen here.

Dean closes his eyes. So that hope fizzles out. But he opens them again. "Angels? Angels are real?" He shakes his head. Maybe that's the difference. "You... the Sam I know... never stopped. He's addicted to it. He goes through gallons of it." It makes his cum taste like fire. Lowering his gaze, "He keeps me in the basement."

Heart-sick, Sam moves to put his arms around Dean and stops himself, "Dean.. can I hold you?" If his alternate has been abusing Dean, it might not be good to touch him. He vows right then that he’s going to find his doppleganger and end him.

Dean's eyes flash up to Sam's face, which looks completely honest and open, and sad. If it's a trick it's a really, really complicated one and Dean can't outthink it. And for this good Sam, even if it's not his Sam, to ask permission to hold him is kind of like he's started speaking French and Dean has to pause to read the subtitles. He reaches out and grips Sam's shirt, then with the other hand too, and leans in against Sam's chest, his head under Sam's chin. He's tense and trembling, but he snuggles his cheek against Sam's breastbone.

Sam very carefully scoops Dean up and into his lap, wrapping his arms around him then, as an afterthought, reaches blindly for the afghan that is always there on the back of the couch. Draping it around Dean and holding him close, pressing kisses to his hair and rubbing his back. "I love you, De, I'm gonna make everything right. I promise."

Dean's grip tightens on Sam's shirt and then he's crying, silently, eyes shut in bliss, listening to Sam's heartbeat and the sweet words. This alone was worth selling his soul, he thinks. An hour of this. A minute. Just to feel Sam's love again.

Tangled together is how Bobby finds them when he finally wakes from his stupor in the chair. He can't quite make sense of why Sam suddenly looks much older, his hair back from his face, longer at the back, crow's feet and weathered skin. "What happened to you? Detox age you that much?"    

Patiently Sam explains he's from some parallel universe and that he's NOT the one that hurt Dean. "Has he had anything to eat? A bath?"

"Both, but kind of a while ago now. He slept like the dead. I gave him a potion - to speed healing. He was pretty bad." Dean wakes at the sound of the voices, finds himself in Sam's arms, breathing in his scent. Sam's voice is calm and patient, his heartbeat steady.

"If you're here, where's the Sam we know?" asks Bobby.

"I don't know. He could still be here, or he could have changed places with me, which if he did, _my_ Dean will straighten his ass out for you."

'My Dean.' This is not, of course, 'his Sam.' He stirs, sitting up. Even though this is some other Dean's Sam, he took strength from that, from Sam holding him. He feels more awake than he has in a long time. "How will he do that?" His voice is raspy with sleep. "He's - seriously high powered. If you stopped so soon you have no idea of everything it can do."

"He's treated me for it before, and we've got this new place, amazing resources. And he's got an Angel in his pocket, your Sam will be back to normal in no time." Stroking Dean's cheek, "Is he... was he like this without the blood?"

He blinks. The gentle touches are so puzzling to him, physically. "Like this?" Then Dean realizes he must have a bruise there. "No - before the blood he was - We were - " He looks away, a blush staining his face. "He wasn't like that. It turned him like that. Slowly at first, then just - faster and faster."

"So he does have a good side to come back to. And if he can come back, he'll be better, and if not... he'll be ok with my Dean, and  I'll be here to take care of you. Properly."

"What's... your Dean like?" he asks, as Bobby goes into the kitchen and starts making coffee, bacon and biscuits.

"Well he's you, he's a hunter, a badass that no one in their right mind messes with. - Though, you'd be surprised how many people _aren't_ in their right mind. He's heavily trained, he's been through a lot of shit, it's made him hard in ways, he doesn't let you see him vulnerable at all." Gently stroking Dean's hair, "You're a hunter too, right?"

"Was," looking aside. He's been through things that broke him over and over because of who did them. "It's been a while for me."

"You're still a hunter, like a Marine, always a Marine. You don't have to hunt though. You could stay here with Bobby, work on the cars, or work in a garage somewhere. You're good with your hands." Picking up one and kissing the palm. "I'll help you do anything you want to." Because now _he's_ the older brother and it's his job to look after Dean, to make him better after what his other self did to him.

At the touch of Sam's lips to his palm Dean looks up into Sam's eyes. "You and your Dean. Are you together?"

Shaking his head, "No, not like that. We've both had women in our lives... I don't think he feels that way."

"Oh." Slowly he shakes his head. "But he does. He just - like you said. 'Doesn't let you see him vulnerable at all.' And he never did anything about it. But I did. So maybe that's the difference between your world and here?" Oh god, but that's horrible. "Is it my fault? And if I got him back would it just happen again?" He's not sure all of that makes sense but he's panicking. There's always been guilt about how young Sam was, how young they both were when it started.

Tipping Dean's head up with his fingers, "Shhhh, easy, De, easy. It's not you. You didn't do this to Sam, to me. It was the demon blood. I've been there before, it makes you do horrible things. Like hurting you."

Dean gazes at him for a moment, then looks down. "Yeah. It got worse the more he had of it, and it kind of - built up. And then he would use his powers to hurt me."

Sam can't stop himself from just wrapping his arms around Dean and holding him close. "No one's gonna hurt you like that ever again, I swear it."

Dean is stiff for just an instant, expecting pain, but the potion Bobby gave him worked very well with all the rest and he's almost fine. He melts into the embrace of this other, older Sam, who is sweet the way his Sam once was. The other Dean doesn't show his vulnerabilities but this Dean is nothing but vulnerabilities, repeatedly smashed to pieces and carelessly glued back together again for another go. So he cries.

Sam just holds him and rocks them both, pressing kisses to Dean's soft hair, rubbing his back slowly. Bobby steps into the room and coughs to gain Sam's attention, "Um.. breakfast is up."

Sam gently soothes Dean, "De... can you eat? You need nourishment."

Dean is drowsy now and it takes him a second to reorient himself. Eat? Is he allowed to eat? "How much… may I?" Then he remembers, this is not the same Sam. He doesn't have to eat on the floor, or with a time limit, or the threat of a beating. And it should be such a relief but now it's confusing. What is he allowed to do? He doesn't remember what's normal anymore. Maybe it will come back to him.

"You can eat, as much as you want. How.. how did you eat before?" He's afraid of the answer, but he has to know. He has to know how to help Dean return to normal again.

"With... permission. Time limit. I'm... I've been a dog for a while." Then he realizes how fucked up that sounds and feels ashamed.

Sam sucks in a breath and holds back the cursing that's flying around in his head. He can fall apart later, right now, Dean needs him. "I have an idea. Will you trust me on this, just for breakfast? I promise, no time limit, no dog, nothing humiliating. And if you don't like it, we stop."

Dean blinks at him, has no idea what Sam is talking about. "I trust you," he says, and means it.

Sam helps him off and offers him his hand, leading him to the kitchen he guides Dean to a chair, then pulls his up right against him and sits down. He feels a little stupid letting Bobby serve, but he's hoping this settles Dean down. "Is this... okay? Us close like this?"

"Yeah," Dean says, hoarsely. It's wonderful actually. He would never have dared to ask for it, especially after Sam said he and his Dean weren't together. "It's good."

Gently touching his hand, swallowing hard, "I had thought maybe of you sitting in my lap, but... that would be completely your call." He didn't want to act like he was pushing, but he wanted Dean to feel secure.

"My call?" He can choose? That's what Sam means? "I can sit in your lap?" This is the older-brother Sam and Dean takes a chance of offending him. He crawls into his lap. Bobby trades a look with Sam over Dean's head. Bobby should have known it was bad. He hadn't seen Dean in almost two years. But he would never have imagined how bad it could be.

Sam gives him a look of sympathy as he wraps Dean in his arms, rocking him gently before murmuring in his ear, "Do you want me to feed you, or hold your plate? I can do that for you, if you want. I'll do anything for you, De."

Dean laughs a little and pushes his face into Sam's neck. "You're treating me like a baby." He hardly cares about the food when he's been so fiercely starved for love but it would be nice to do something that pleased Sam. And it does smell good. "I guess hold the plate. Please?" He has definitely been taught to say Please.

He is quick to comply, holding the plate and offering Dean the fork. "Your wish is my command." He happily holds it in one large hand, the other supporting Dean's back. He smiles encouragingly at him, sharing that look with Bobby.

There's a slight hesitation as he takes the fork, because sometimes, every once in a while, his Sam will pretend to be nice until the last possible moment, then pull the rug out from under Dean. Stab him with the fork, for example. Or throw the food on the floor. But nothing happens and once he's eaten a bite or two in peace, nature takes over and oh the food is _delicious_ , and still hot. It's hard to go slowly.

Sam makes sure to move the plate away a couple of times and offer him the juice instead, to keep Dean from choking on his food. But he makes it seem like he's just getting him juice. Once the plate is clean, "How about a shower and if you're still hungry, we'll make you more."

Dean nods. He's so full now, he can't imagine being hungry again. A shower, yes he would love that. He climbs carefully out of Sam's lap. That had been a little awkward, eating while in someone's lap, but - had been really satisfying too.

Bobby shuffles, "I'll make up the guest room, use my shower." Sam nods, putting a large hand on Bobby's shoulder as he walks past with Dean in tow.

Like the rest of the house, the bathroom and shower is still just the same as when Dean and Sam stayed here as kids. Dean has changed, though. He has had things happen to him that he tries not to think about, but he's been imprisoned so that he has nothing else, no other memories but the old ones worn almost away by his constant need of them. He has no idea of privacy anymore, or he would have been embarrassed in front of Bobby, letting Sam baby him. And there's certainly no thought of privacy from Sam. He just strips to get in the shower without thinking about it.

At first glance Sam doesn't see much difference in Dean's body, other than him being very pale and his skin a bit sickly looking. But then he takes in the scars. He knows Dean's body better than his own, and these scars are different. He moves a bit closer, fingertips lightly touching what looks like whip marks on his back, and those are teeth marks of a human. Of him. He doesn't even realize he's crying, "Oh De... " Very carefully pulling Dean into his arms, trembling hard, how could anyone hurt Dean like this! And it was him! He quickly lets go of him, "I'm sorry... I... you don't need me in here gawking at you while you shower."

"I don't care." He can't see what Sam sees. He's never seen what kind of mess his back must be. But he doesn't like seeing older-brother Sam cry.

Cupping his face gently, "You should." Kissing his forehead, "I'm never going to hurt you."

Dean looks up at him and says, "I believe you." Then it looks like Sam is going to cry again. He turns away and gets into the shower.

Sam strips down to his underwear, leaving them on, "Dean... can I wash your back?"

"Yeah," gladly, then he won't have to touch it. "You don't have to ask me." Sam seems so worried as though Dean would say no to something he'd ask. He's a good Sam, he wouldn't ask for anything bad.

Sam steps into the shower and picks up the washcloth, sudsing it up with the shower gel. He has to giggle in his head, Bobby - Shower Gel. He's very gentle and slow washing Dean's scarred back, it does look like something was put on to help the wounds heal, but not enough.

At first Dean is washing the rest of himself as quickly and efficiently as he's learned to do in the limited time Sam would allow. But he slows to a stop as this Sam gently touches him. He lowers his head, closes his eyes and sighs in pleasure.

Sam is very careful with him, washing down his back, kneeling down to go lower. Using the same care to wash his legs, "Dean... turn to face me, please." He very studiously ignores the soft flesh between Dean's legs as he washes his legs. Standing up he rubs the cloth over Dean's chest and shoulders.

Dean's eyelids are at half mast and there's a little smile on his lips. He's relaxed now, unconsciously reassured by being touched all over without being hurt at all. He looks at Sam - still in his underwear for some reason. "Should I wash you now?" It would be a pleasure.

"Let me do your hair first, hmm?" Getting shampoo in his hands and working it into Dean's longer hair, "Do you like your hair this long?"

He shrugs a little, awkwardly, eyes shut against the shampoo. "Not really. But it's not... It wasn't up to me."

"My Dean always wore it short." Carding his fingers through the longer hair, "But you can wear it however you like. Short, long, longer than mine if you want. Shave it all off, it's all good to me." Using the flat nubs of his fingers to rub Dean's scalp, he asks softly, "Did he make you... shave?"

"Yes." Sam's careful questions reveal the edges of what's normal. Dean could easily go on to mention all the various grooming things his Sam required but that's like reliving it, when telling it to this Sam.

Taking in a deep breath, "How about ... all the things he made you do, you don't do them anymore unless YOU want to. Ok?"

"Okay." Eyes still shut, "and if there's anything I do want to?"

"Do it. If it's something you shouldn't do, Bobby or I will tell you, ok? But you can do anything you want to."

"All right." He's  not always going to remember that, but he'll try. Rinsing the shampoo off his head he thinks maybe he'll get his hair cut. But right now, he looks at Sam, he gets some of that 'shower gel' on his hands, and starts washing Sam. He's older, but he's the same, his body big and muscular and perfect. Dean was able to stay inert while being washed but now he's rested and fed and clean and he's _interested_.

Dean's hands on him feel so good, he can't help the traitorous reaction in his underwear or the moan that escapes his mouth. Clapping his hands over his mouth he gives Dean a wide eyed look, "Um... maybe I should do this."

"Why?" asks Dean, then pulls back. "Oh. Something I shouldn't do." Well, Sam said he'd tell him.

Reaching for him and taking his hands, bringing them up to his lips to kiss gently. "No... it's... I don't want to take advantage of you. You've been hurt and treated so badly, I don't want you to feel or to think you _have_ to touch me, in any way." Looking at the hands in his own and letting go of them.

"I _don't_ think I have to," says Dean. "I know I _want_ to. Is it okay then?" Holding his hands close to Sam's chest and not quite touching, as though there's a force field.

Nodding, "Yes. It's okay." Letting the tension bleed from his body, his weight shifting forward into Dean's touch. "Would it be all right if I touched you as well?"

"Yes, please yes, touch me." He wants touch more than anything. Being hit or hurt certainly didn't count, and the stuff Sam did with his powers was even worse, cold impersonal pain. _This_ Sam's gentle hands are a marvel, and being allowed to touch is another previously forbidden pleasure. The demon blood in his Sam eventually made him disgusted by any loving touch.

Yet he'd been jealous and possessive of Dean at the same time, which meant being chained in the dark. He presses forward into Sam's space and pushes up on his toes. "Kiss me. Please."

Bending down to comply with his wish, holding Dean close against him, lips gentle on his. He wanted to make love to him, show him how tender and wonderful it could be. But this was all Dean's call, he wouldn't press him.

Dean loops an arm around Sam's neck and the other around his waist and blissfully drinks in that kiss. He can tell that Sam will hold himself back a lot, he's made that really clear, but Dean knows how to ask for a deeper kiss, by just deepening the kiss. It's good. It's really, really good. This Sam is a wonder. Dean rubs against him, moaning low.

Sam breaks to that wanton sound, crushing Dean tight against him, deepening the kiss and taking his mouth. One big hand stroking down his back, finding and kneading a firm globe, fingers teasingly stroking between them.

Both of Dean's hands are on Sam's hips, his fingers find their way under the waistband of his underwear to pull them down as much as he can. That thin wet layer of fabric between them is maddening.

Sam drops to his knees and looks up at him, placing kisses on his belly and down to a hip, "Let me?" Moving his kisses closer to that hot hard need.

"Yes, yes please yes," leaning with one hand against the wall so he doesn't fall down. He reaches down, touches Sam's hair.

He can see the damage that's been done to him, he'll have to get him to a doctor eventually, but for now he can show him love. Slowly he kisses his way closer to his goal, then starts by painting it with broad swipes of his tongue. Licking over the tip and stopping to suckle there and draw out the sweet precum.

"Sammy," he moans. "Oh god, yeah, please..." stroking the dark hair, trembling as he leans against the wall.

Slowly taking him into his mouth, keeping his teeth well away from such tender flesh. Stroking with his tongue, hollowing his cheeks for him.

Dean's cries echo in the bathroom. Soon enough, he's begging. "Sam please, please let me come, please," Shaking with the effort of holding back until he has permission.

Sam looks up with big eyes, not taking his mouth away, he gives him a slow blink and a thumbs up signal. Dean had amazing stamina if he could hold himself off for this long.

The pleasure and relief is as intense as any of his Sam's powers, overwhelming Dean. He comes so hard he can see fireworks inside his tight-shut eyes, and it's a good thing Sam is here to hold him up afterwards too.

Shifting to sit in the shower and gently lower Dean into his lap, cradling him, protecting his face from the water. Still hard himself, but his pleasure was the last thing on his mind. "I've got you, De, I've got you."

Dean shudders and gasps and slowly returns to find this is actually reality, this is not some amazing sweet dream. "Sam." Clutching at his shoulders. "Please let me do that too. For you. I want to."

"How about we get out of the shower first?" Tile was not the most comfortable thing to be on.

"Yeah. Sorry." Getting to his feet (still a little shaky) and helping Sam up.

Peeling off the soaked-through briefs and stepping out of them, wringing them out before dropping them in the pile of his clothing. Grabbing a towel and gently patting Dean's body down, following with kisses down his body. "How are you feeling?"

"How am I _feeling?"_ He's puzzled, it's not a question he gets asked. "Kind of good. A little sleepy," shy grin. "But still interested. Is there... Could we..." Blushing. "Can we lie down in a bed?"

"Oh yes, I'd like that very much." They're both still a bit damp when they land on the bed, Sam rolling underneath Dean giving him the freedom to pull away at any time. Large hands cupping Dean's head as they kiss, easing his own legs apart to let Dean better settle into his hips.

Dean backs up a little so that he can kiss his way down Sam's body. Whenever he breathes in, he breathes Sam. They smell the same - essentially the same with little differences. The older Sam smells like some kind of aftershave. (Dean didn't do much of a job washing him in the shower.) It's nice. His Sam usually smells like blood.

Slowly letting his hands wander down Dean's back to knead both firm ass cheeks as his hips rock upward. "De... you're so damn sexy."

Dean looks to Sam's face, then back down to his body. His Sam, of course, tended to say very much the opposite to Dean, and this Sam doesn't ever seem to say _anything_ negative, so he has no idea what's true. But it's nice of him to say. He's covered in scars that make Sam cry to look at, he doesn't know how sexy _that_ is. Sam is beautiful and his cock is big and gorgeous and Dean licks his lips. "Want this. Want you. Really. Okay?"

Laying his arms out to his sides, "I'm all yours, lover. Have at me."

Dean's green eyes snap up to Sam's face in astonishment. _Lover_ . Heat floods his face, then he looks down, smiling. He leans down and lazily takes Sam's cock into his mouth. It's exactly the same as his Sam's, and he knows it well, knows all the things that set it off - but he can take his time, enjoy himself. Before Sam went bad, Dean _loved_ doing this for him. But after, none of it was loving anymore.

Grabbing at the edges of the bed to keep from grabbing at Dean and startling him. Wow, Dean is good at this, his mouth is sweet and hot in ways Sam has never experienced, it only makes him wonder what his Dean will be like if he gets home.

Dean lets his fingers wander down between Sam's legs, cupping his balls, stroking down behind them to tease at his hole as he swallows his cock. He's excited again himself, and just giving Sam pleasure is incredibly rewarding..

Widening the gap between his legs, canting his hips to open himself to Dean , "Yes... anything."

Dean wets a finger and first teases, then slides it in. He knows exactly where Sam's prostate will be, and how to stroke it with one finger, and he opens his eyes so he can watch Sam's reactions. Sam's cock is huge in his mouth, throbbing, and he's so hot and silky inside.

Sam gives a whole body undulation of pleasure, moaning loudly enough that he's sure Bobby's heard him. Reaching down he hauls up his legs, hooking his hands under his knees to hold his legs up, opening himself to Dean in a way that implies complete trust.

Dean gazes at him in amazement, panting. "Sam." He glances aside desperately, and thank God there's some lube there half hidden behind the lamp on the bedside table. Spit isn't enough, he happens to know. He grabs it and in moments has two well-slicked fingers sliding into Sam.

Back arching as another loud moan is pulled from him.                  

Downstairs Bobby utters, "BALLS!", grabs his keys and heads out to find a bar and then maybe some groceries. And a new set of sheets, he'd have to burn those.

"You're so beautiful, Sam." He sits back on his heels between Sam's legs, working his fingers in and out, stroking Sam's prostate so that precum leaks all down his big beautiful cock. "Will you let me," Sam said 'anything' but still. Asking matters.

Looking down between his legs, "Yes. How... how do you want me?" It's not his Dean, but it's _Dean_ , and he's wanted this for so damn long.

"You could get on top of me if you want control," says Dean. "Or if you want me to drive you can stay like this. I wanna see your face." Slowly he withdraws his fingers, and gets more lube for his cock.

"Then I'm happy like this. Come take me, lover."

Dean has to squint a little because his eyes are prickling. This is not his Sam, but he's _Sam_ , and he's missed his real Sam for so long now that the demon blood made him into something else. There's no history between this Sam and himself, but there's an easy instinct of love that fits anyway. And speaking of 'fit'. He tells Sam what he told his Sam the first time. "I'll go slow," he says hoarsely. "Until you tell me it's okay to do more. And you can say Stop if you don't like it. Understand?"

Sam nods as he lets go of his legs, hands reaching up for him, "Come to me. Wanna hold you." Dean breaches him slowly, gets in all they way then drops into his arms where Sam is sure to kiss him deeply. It's so amazing, he's so stretched and full. "De... move De... please. I can take whatever you can give."

It's been so long, it's been years since he felt this. Dean moves faster, letting Sam urge him with his hips to the right rhythm. So tight and hot and good, and he does his best to make it so good for Sam, to give him all the pleasure he knows how. Not because he'll suffer for it if he doesn't, but because he loves Sam, even after everything, no matter what.

Wrapping one leg around Dean's hips, using the other to brace on the bed with, "Harder... it's ok.. give it to me. Whatever you need." He's panting now, it's so damn good! He wants his Dean but he could live here with this Dean and be happy too. It's a bit disorienting to think of.

They strive together hard on the bed, Dean's eyes shut and his face in the junction of Sam's neck and shoulder. His hips pistoning, he drives hard into Sam's willing body. "Sam," gasping. "So good, Sammy." One hand slides between them to take hold of Sam's cock.

Screaming out his release, all he needed was the touch of Dean's hand on his cock and he simply went over the edge. "De.... so cum lover... want you to cum so hard for me."

Sam gives him permission and Dean shatters into a ferocious orgasm, moaning brokenly. He dissolves on top of Sam, clinging to him, trembling, grateful tears in his eyelashes. This isn't exactly what he asked the crossroads demon for, that's true - but it's worth it all the same.

Wrapping Dean in his arms and gently rolling them to the side so he can throw a leg over him too. Cupping his cheek and kissing his eyelids, "Love you, De... so much."

Bliss. "Love you too, Sammy." He rests his hand over Sam's heart before falling asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam is rudely awakened by crashing into a massive computer console and then the floor. Moaning in pain he rolls onto his side, naked on a cold concrete floor. Where was he? This isn't any place he knows.

What the hell was that noise? Dean couldn't sleep anyway, and he's sitting up in the library looking at stuff online. But the heavy crash from the computer room has him on his feet in a second. "Sam?" He thought Sam was asleep.

Groaning again in pain, hauling himself up and looking at his bleeding arm, "Dean?!?" Was that Dean? He sounded older, voice gruffer.

He pauses in the doorway, staring. "Sam??" Why the hell is he naked? Then he gets a better look at the face. Too young. "You're not Sam." He's got his knife in his hand before he knows he drew it.

Hands up, "Wait wait! I am Sam! I just... I don't think I'm YOUR Sam. You're what... Forty?" And fucking _gorgeous_ , more chiseled, packing a lot more muscle. _He_ could put up a fight.

Dean straightens up, offended. "I'm 36!" Eyes narrowing, "What do you mean not MY Sam. Time travel?" But that would still be his Sam, just - out of order. Right? HIS Sam should still be asleep in his bed.

Giving a snort of laughter, "No, I don't think so. My Dean is ... much different. He's not as... Alpha as you are, he never could be."

"Wha...?" What does that mean? "So who the hell are _you?_ And what are you doing here."

"Um... would you mind if I tended to the bleeding and got dressed?"

Dean doesn't move. "Why, 'cause you're too naked and scratched up to answer a goddamn question when you're trespassing?"

"It's complicated, I think. I was in bed asleep and then just fell through your ceiling to land on that." Gesturing to the computer terminal, "I'm 25 and my Dean is 29. He's young, naive, and not nearly as built as you are. I can only assume I've shifted dimensions instead of time traveled. He would never be you."

"Shifted _dimensions_." Dean's voice is flat and tired. "That's just great. You better not be some kind of 'Evil Sam', I have had enough shit this week." He doesn't exactly like the way this Sam talks about 'his Dean' either. It makes Dean want to go and check on HIS Sam.

"Yeah... so would you mind if I got dressed now? Then maybe we can figure this out?"

Dean backs out of the computer room. "I'll get Sam. It'll be his stuff that fits you anyway." But he finds Sam gone. Just gone. No answer to his cell. Nothing.

Following him he walks past him into Sam's room and grabs jeans and a T-shirt so he's not just hanging in the breeze. Dean's taken off calling his name all over - well wherever this is. He wanders toward the sound of Dean's voice, figure he needed to come up with a good story about his Dean to convince this one not to kill him.

Dean is standing in the library, running his hands over his hair, trying to think. WHERE is his Sam? Well, maybe he changed places with this one. He turns and finds Other Sam now dressed in Sam's clothes. "So you said you just... fell through here? Did my Sam fall through there? Change places with you?"

Shrugging, "I can only assume so. What year is it anyway? It's 2008 for  me."

"It's 2015. So it is time travel? AND dimensions."

"My Dean... Did you suffer an electrocution before Dad was killed by that Yellow Eyed son of bitch?"

"Yeeaahh..." slowly, unwillingly. He doesn't like to remember that time. Well, there are lots of times he doesn't like to remember. "Why?"

"Because you had a heart transplant then, Dad was killed for other reasons."

"What...?" Shaking his head incredulously. "That's not what happened." Oh. "You mean your Dean had a heart transplant?"

"Yes. Dad tried to make a deal, but it didn't go the way he planned. My Dean will never be you. He's on a dozen pills a day, we don't hunt anymore. You..." gesturing toward him, "clearly still do."

"That's right." He can't even imagine life like that. He remembers, for a moment, that time he was magically made old. A little like that, _all the time._ And Sam's voice when he talks about it. Like he blames his Dean or something. "And you? You never... you know... Lucifer?"

Shaking his head, "No. Definitely no. Did your Sam? What about you, did you let Michael?"

"I didn't," Dean says. "He did. He did it on purpose to win. And he did. It took a while to get him back. - All the way back."

Arching a brow, "What do you mean? All the way back? What happened?"

"He was in the Pit with Lucifer and Cas got him out but - " he pauses. "Do you even know Cas? Castiel. The angel?"

"Angels? Are you saying Angels are real? And you have one in your back pocket?" He moves closer, face showing clear signs of interest in the subject.

"Michael and Lucifer are angels," he points out. "And he's not in my back pocket! He's just a friend." Sore subject.

"Yeah, but you KNOW one. What's he like? Do they have wings and halos?" planting himself in a chair to not LOOM over Dean, even here he's shorter.

"They have wings, but you can never see them. Just the shadows of them sometimes. Haloes, I dunno, I never saw one, but sometimes they glow - eyes, hands. They possess people like demons do. Only they have to have permission."

That makes him grin, no chance was he saying yes to some winged thing. "So what else has happened to you? My life has been pretty tame, we live with Bobby and work on the cars or I make a tow truck run sometimes. Dean can't do much, his body was pretty screwed up from the electrocution. So I guess we're kinda - normal now."

Dean frowns in confusion. That just... doesn't... sound like them somehow. But what does he know? "Dad bought my life with a deal. Sam got killed and I bought his life. I killed the yellow -eyed demon. I went to hell..." Shaking his head. "Cas pulled me out. It ended up with Lucifer in the Pit - and Sam out here, but with his soul still down there." Remembering that is more unpleasant than remembering Hell.

"So your Sam's soul is in Hell?" Oddly he wants to know what that would be like, to not have a soul?

"It's not there anymore. He got it back. It wasn't easy."

"What about demon blood?"

Dean scowls at the mention of demon blood. It was so disgusting. "Yeah he had a problem with that. And he had to swallow a lot of that shit to do the thing with Lucifer. But he's over it now. He was cured." By God, he doesn't say. "What about you?"

Schooling his face to give him the puppy eyes, "I tried it... on the advice of a demon who said if I got powerful enough I could make my Dean better. Didn't work. Detox sucked though I never want to go through that again."

Dean has been lied to many times by Sam on this exact topic. All of the alarm bells start going off in the back of his mind, and the Mark  starts to itch under his shirt. And the puppy eyes. Dean can always TELL when any Sam is giving the puppy eyes, it's a conscious thing, and if he's doing it now it's because he's a big fat demon-blood-drinking liar. "Is that so." He's starting to seriously wonder about the rest of the story too.

"Yeah. Where are we anyway? This place is huge."

"This is our home," Dean says, answering and not answering. "And I want to know where my Sam is. And I think half the stuff you're telling me is bullshit."

"Got anything to drink around here? You might want something."

Dean stares at him incredulously. The last time Sam just blew off his questions... "You do have a soul, right?" he demands. "Cause I'm starting to wonder."

"I do, but yeah, I've been lying through my teeth. You want the truth, I'd like a drink." Turning and putting his feet up on the tabletop.

Dean hisses angrily through his teeth, then goes and gets a bottle from the special cabinet in the kitchen. He also has a bottle in his room, but he's not about to lead this weird lying Sam there. He slams a glass down and splashes whiskey into it. "Here."

Grinning Sam knocks it back then reaches for the bottle and pours a generous helping, "You might want some too - lover."

Dean's eyes snap to Sam's face at this last and his eyes narrow. "Yeah no thanks, I'll pass on that." 'Lover', what the hell, he's trying to rattle Dean.

Dropping his feet to the floor and rising, he advances on Dean, all lean grace and sex. Just the right amount of looseness in his hips and shoulders, licking his lips slowly and making very direct contact with Dean's green eyes. "Admit it, you want him. Me. You wanna bend your little brother over the table and fuck him until he screams." Stepping forward, Dean stepping back until he hits the wall, Sam placing his hands on either side of Dean's shoulders, hemming him in loosely. "I already know how that tastes. But _he's_ my bottom, takes it so good for me. Screams his little heart out and just begs for more." Getting in close, nearly touching as he purrs in a dark voice right at his ear, "Sucks my cock for hours and is still hungry for it, begs me to eat him out, get my tongue deep up his ass." Body undulating but not touching him, "I had his cock buried in me when I was fourteen." Moving his head slowly to the other side of Dean's, "So good... so big and hard, riding him in the back of the Impala. Tell me you never thought of your Sammy that way? Your hand fisted in the back of his hair, fucking that sweet sweet mouth."

"Jesus Christ," Dean says, aghast, "are you fucking _possessed?_ Get off me!" shoving him back. The awful words are too much, too far, but there's a grain of truth to them too and he doesn't WANT to be turned on by this fake Sam. He hasn't had sex since he changed back. There's too much violence in him when he's turned on, and the thing on his arm throbs and gets hot.

Chuckling deeply, "Maybe, I know I'm more powerful than you. Come on sexy, why don't you give me what you've got. I won't break." Moving back to sit his ass on the table, grabbing the bottle and drinking straight from it, letting just a drop slide down the side of his mouth and down his throat to pool in the base of his collar bone. He cants his hips, lets his legs open wide, "You want a show?"

"I want my Sam." Then he realizes how that sounds and grits his teeth. "So was the heart transplant story a load of shit? Or are you fucking an invalid." More powerful than him? because of the demon blood?

Extending his fingers and wiggling them a bit, the buttons on Dean's shirt pop, as does the button on his jeans and the zip goes down. "Horse shit. He's fine, we don't hunt though. I can't be bothered when his luscious ass is there for me to fuck all the time. We live on our own, haven't seen Bobby in a year or so, he doesn't approve of us. Not that I care what anyone thinks."

"Knock that shit _off_ Darth Sam," zipping his jeans back up. "I'm _warning_ you. If you push me _you will not win._ You need to fuck off back to your dimension and give me my Sam back." What could be _happening_ to him there?

Letting him think he has control, for a moment, he reaches out and curls his fingers, a force wrapping around Dean's body and dragging him closer to him - slowly. "Darth Sam, that's good, Dean." He tips his head to the side and gives him the innocent puppy face, "Would you rather me play sweet and innocent, maybe call you 'De'?"

Dean tries to plant his feet but this Sam is _strong_ , as strong as anything they've ever faced. His heart is pounding. His arm is burning. He grits his teeth. Christ, is there any way out of this besides giving in to the Mark and losing himself forever? "I wouldn't believe you. And it only works when it's _real_."

Pulling Dean between his legs, keeping him there but not immobile, he gently strokes his hands over Dean's big broad chest. "Do you not want Sam? Is that?" Looking up through his lashes at him, "Because if you do... this could be a test run. You could let yourself go with me, hurt me or don't and you won't have touched your Sam at all."

Dean was expecting to be touched, but he wasn't expecting this line of reasoning. "Why the hell would you even want that? And you know what, even if I DID want that - what I wanted, who I wanted wouldn't be _you_ . It's not enough to _look_ alike. You're practically a demon by now, aren't you? Why are you _really_ here, did you use up your Dean? Did you kill him? Did you _eat_ him?" He's angry, panting, and starting to react.

Calmly, "He's perfectly fine at home in bed, or was when I was pulled here. He's not used up and I don't eat him or drink his blood, he's not a demon." Resting his hands on Dean's hips, "Is it my power that scares you or your own feelings for Sam?"

Though he'd like to dispute the word 'scared', Dean just says, "The way you tell lies and touch when you're told to stop. You're more like Lucifer than Sam."

"He's not in me, I wouldn't let that dick angel anywhere near me. I do drink demon blood, it makes me strong, makes it so I can keep what's mine. No more lies. Ask me whatever you want."

"Tell me what you mean by 'keep what's yours'." It's so bizarre, to stand here so close, letting himself be touched - well not actually letting, but he's stopped struggling anyway. "Tell me exactly why Bobby disapproves of you, if he really does." Thinking about Bobby always brings a stab of grief. It helps just a little to focus. Sam's hands on him feel good, no matter how freaked out Dean is.

Sam keeps his touches soft, stroking over his shoulders and biceps, just enjoying the feel of that muscular body under his hands. "Dean... we are brothers, who's going to approve of that? And I drink demon blood, no one's going to approve of that who isn't in Hell already." His hands cup Dean's face, thumbs gently stroking over his cheeks, "And Dean is mine, I won't let him go, won't let him get hurt by anyone."

There is still a slippery kind of vagueness to some of the things Sam says. Dean's eyes narrow. The way he's been talking about 'his' Dean has been off, too - like he's a possession, a thing. "Not even you?"

A dark shadow crosses his face and he looks away, "No. I don't protect him from me." HIs hands sliding back down to hold Dean's hips, tightening in his distress, "I did once... Protect him, love him."

For the first time Dean feels like he's being told the truth. "You stopped loving him?" The next logical question, "Why? What did he do?" He must have done _something_.

Shaking his head, "I didn't stop loving him, I just stopped caring if I hurt him."

"Why." That other Dean doesn't get to ask this, ever. He can tell. This Sam acts like the master of the plantation.

"The demon blood most likely, he pleads with me to stop drinking it."

Despite everything this makes Dean sad, remembering what it had been like when his Sam was addicted, and seeing for himself what would have happened if they hadn't saved him. "But you won't."

Tipping his head to the side, "I guess I'm about to detox hard, _you're_ not going to give it to me."

 _He doesn't know._ Dean didn't realize till now that this Sam knows nothing about the Mark of Cain, doesn't know that Dean is one Hulk rage away from being the best demon blood cow Sam has ever imagined. If he IS more powerful than a Knight of Hell and can keep him. But maybe the demon Dean won't mind letting him have it. He says, "That's right."

Smirking at him as he leans back and braces his hands on the table, lifting his legs and wrapping them around Dean's waist, letting go with his powers. "So... you gonna help sweat it out of me?"

When he feels that invisible grip letting him go, Dean relaxes fractionally. He's sure he's still being manipulated, but he likes this Sam a lot better when he's not doing creepy Force-groping. But is it even possible, would detoxing this Sam now make him care again? Dean wonders if he didn't just kill his own soul drinking that shit, he's an awful lot like the Sam of that time. "Not in my kitchen I'm not."

Beaming at him like it's Christmas, "I wouldn't mind a snack first, do you cook?"

"Of course I cook. You're hungry, then let me go and sit down like a person." It is very hard not to slip into the normal ways of talking to Sam. "Are you a only-eats-froofy-crap Sam like my Sam, or do you eat meat and potatoes?" Not that he's exactly planning on making meat and potatoes. He's just curious.

Trading his leg wrap for an arm wrap, leaning in to gently nip Dean's throat before letting him go completely. "Oh definitely meat."

"Walked into that one," Dean mutters. "Fine, you can eat what I eat and I don't want any complaints." What he makes are sandwiches.

Stroking his hand over Dean's thigh and hip before he gets out of range, "Does that mean I can _eat_ you?" Following him toward the kitchen proper.

"Why don't you sit down and imitate Nice Sam for a little bit and we'll see if that's sexier than this thing you're doing. I bet it is."

"So you don't like it if he's aggressive." Sitting down as instructed, propping his chin in his hands, elbows on the table while he watches Dean.

" _Aggressive_ isn't the word I'd use, dude. I like it when he's _tough_ . You're just going back and forth between rapey and desperate. Which of those do you think works? Oh, _neither_." He feels his temper rising and struggles to fight it back down. "Do you want one," as he gets himself a beer.

"Please." Taking it from his hand, "I haven't hurt you or violated you."

"You haven't tried yet. But it's kind of a theme. You think it freaks me out to have people say there's something between me and Sam? People have been saying that for years. Big deal. It doesn't matter, because my Sam just isn't like that. And it's your Dean's fault, I guess, if you were telling the truth about him doing it to you when you were fourteen."

Jaw dropping, _"His fault?_ How can it be his fault when it was _me_ that woke him up with his cock in my mouth. You don't know anything about us."

Dean feels his face flush and not with anger this time. "Then he should've told you _no._ He was _older_. There's no 'oh but it felt good' clause that makes it okay."

"We are hardly normal people, Dean. You can't say I was still a boy or innocent by fourteen, _you_ sure as hell weren't. What does age have to do with it."

"But you were," Dean says, then corrects himself. _"He_ was. I think about him at fourteen and somebody touching him and I want to fucking _kill them._ It isn't just the age. It's the age difference. And back then I was his hero, he worshipped me, he _couldn't_ have said No and if you can't say No it's not okay."

"I won't listen to you about that, what we had wasn't wrong. It's wrong now because of what I do to him, and if I make it back I'll make that right."

Dean sets a sandwich down in front of Sam. "Well, now, that's the first thing you've said that's made me like you."

Looking from the plate up to his eyes, "I thought you said you could cook?"

"Thought I said you could eat what I eat and not bitch about it?" Sitting down with his own sandwich. "I'm hungry now." Taking a big bite.

He can't help but laugh, this Dean was a force to be reckoned with. He had to wonder if he hadn't kept on with the demon blood if his Dean would have become this. "Fine fine. I'll cook for us later."

"You can cook?" Dean talks with his mouth full. "My Sam can only do grilled cheese." It is a really good grilled cheese though.

"Yes, I can cook. I'll make you something good tonight in exchange for a back massage."

Dean shoots him an ironic look. "Well that's a little better. All right, I guess I can manage that." The classic back rub seduction technique! But it's a lot sexier to Dean to think about and anticipate than the leg-humping and whatnot that Sam tried to lead off with. He's never said he didn't want Sam.

Grinning, "And if I make pie for dessert?"

Dean looks impressed before he can stop himself. "Well." Looking aside. "Depends on how good the pie is."

"What's your favorite? And you can't say all of them."

"Nah! I'm not a pie whore. Apple, dude. Apple is the king of pies." Not that he doesn't have a shit-ton of second favorites. But there's no question.

"We'll need to go shopping, I doubt you have supplies."

"You'd be surprised. I dunno what else you plan on cooking, but there's apples in the pantry and all the baking stuff." He can't keep a note of pride in his kitchen out of his voice.

"But are they the right apples?" Taking a large bite of his sandwich and chewing, "And flour and stuff to make the crust with?"

"I don't think they're the wrong apples," Dean says around the last of his sandwich, "but you can have a look and tell me. Yeah, flour and all that. Baking stuff."

Deciding he should get to it before his withdrawal kicked in and he was a gibbering mess, "So show me the layout." Getting up and leaving half of his sandwich untouched.

Dean shows him, but he notices the half sandwich and that Sam didn't look all that good. Leaning against the kitchen counter, "How often do you need it." The blood. He lifts his eyebrows. "You're looking a little off already."

"Often." He begins dragging out items, putting flour in a bowl and microwaving the butter to soften it.

 _Where do you get demon blood from if you don't hunt,_ he wants to ask, but maybe he doesn't want to know. Instead Dean says, "You haven't had to go without before."

"Once, when I tried to give it up. I didn't make it far before I just went out and got it." quickly mixing the batter to make the crust, "Why don't you peel the apples."

Dean has a peeler, but he prefers his knife. He's very good with it and it's good to have something to do with his hands. "You tried to give it up. Because he asked you?"

"Yes. I didn't make it forty-eight hours. I hit him over the head, chained him to the sink in the bathroom and left." Dumping out the mix and rolling it out to make the bottom pie shell.

"We have some here." Looking at Sam, "For spells. Locked up. There's not that much, but if it keeps you from trying to chain me up, well. I don't see what harm it can do." Shrug. "Unless you gotta have it fresh. Then I can't help you."

Sam licks his lips, "Don't tell me where it is. Wish you hadn't said there was any here. Now I can't stop thinking about it."

"Sorry." Dean wishes he could take it back, but he can't. "Show me how you want the apples cut up." As a connoisseur of pie Dean is aware that cooks differ on this.

"Half sliced, half diced." putting some beans in the base of the pie crust and shoving it in the oven. Grabbing spices, brown sugar and apple juice he makes the sauce for the apples.

Dean does what he's asked. It's so weird to work together cooking. This Sam really does know what he's doing.

Soon the crust is done, Sam loads it with the apples, sauce, then drapes it with the top crust. By now his hands are starting to tremble. "Would you put it in the oven, I don't want to drop it."

He puts it in the oven and sets the timer. Then turns to Sam and puts his hands on his shoulders. "Hey. You okay? Why don't you sit down."

"Need to start dinner, it's a slow simmer kind of thing."

"Then tell me what to do and I'll be the hands."

Sam rattles off the things they'll need and soon has Dean searing the chicken pieces, next they add in the vegetables and liquids. "It just cooks now."

"Okay." Looking Sam in the eye, "Before you get feeling any worse you need to tell me. Should I lock you up? That's what we had to do. If you're actually trying to stop." He's not sure that's really the case.

"You locked him up. For how long?"

Dean sighs. "Days. I don't remember how many. It wasn't easy and I bet it'll be worse for you. You've gone on so much longer. - We might try and get you some help."

Head tipping to the side, "What kind of help? Who could possibly help?"

"An angel," says Dean. 'Their healing powers can be pretty epic."

"They can purge demon blood?"

"I don't know, but maybe. We could ask."

Sam gnaws his lower lip indecisively, "I guess give it a try - but, do we get any quality time before an angel shows up to burn me to cinders?"

"You look like you feel bad. I don't know how 'quality' that time is. And Cas won't burn you to cinders. I won't call him if you don't want me to. There might be other healing stuff here."

"Not bad yet, just the tremors." He was mostly afraid Dean would not want to have anything to do with him after he was detoxed.

"Tell me what you want. I'll help you. Maybe it's what you're here for."

"Distract me." Maybe it _is_ what he's here for, some kick in the ass from the universe to clean up his act so he doesn't kill his brother.

"Okay. I'll distract you." He thinks this means sex, but he's not completely sure.

Still, he is able to look at this Sam, now, as something other than a threat. It makes a lot of difference.

Clenching his hands to still the tremors he can feel, "Maybe that back rub?"

"Yeah, okay. You want to lie down for that?" There's the food cooking, but the timer in here is very loud.

Nodding, "Yeah, I think so."

"Okay. Come on." He leads Sam to his own room. It's closer to the kitchen and anyway it doesn't seem right to offer his Sam's room even to a Sam. "Shirt off and lie down. And strap in. I'm really damn good at this."

Sam peels off his shirt then drops the jeans so he's standing in the cotton boxer-breif things this Sam likes. Giving a bit of a shrug he lies face down on the bed, moaning when he inhales the scent of Dean that's wafted up from the bedding. He grabs one of the pillows and bear hugs it to his face.

Dean climbs onto the bed. He straddles Sam's hips, looks down over his broad muscular back. He can feel the little tremors going through the big frame. He puts his hands on Sam's back and smooths his hands gently over his skin, not digging in at the muscle like he might ordinarily do.

His body gives a great shudder and then stills under the strong calloused hands. He misses his Dean, misses doing things like this with him, for him. He'd become this devil from the demon's blood, hurting the one he loved the most.

Dean does this for a good long time, his hands warm and sure on Sam's back, working a little more firmly for a bit, then subsiding into the gentler touch. Then he hears the timer go off for the pie. The smell of it is wafting down the hallway too. "Hang on. I'm gonna go take that out of the oven." Giving a little caress to Sam's hair before getting up.

That undoes him and he buries his face in the pillow, he did not want to let this Dean see him cry. This one was tough and brave and took no shit, this is what his brother should be, what he'd corrupted.

When he comes back, he realizes Sam has been crying, the same way he always has. Sam tries to hide it, and Dean has always pretended not to notice, because Sam doesn't want it noticed. "That pie looks perfect. I'd've just scarfed it down myself if it wouldn't've burnt my mouth."

Chuckling, "Just get your angel to fix it up." Shivering as Dean slips back on the bed and places his hands on him again, "You are good at this. You'd make crazy tips doing this for real."

"I couldn't do this for just anybody though." This time he goes up the back of Sam's neck and massages his scalp. Bad Sam's hair is even longer than his Sam's, but it's just as nice.

Groaning deeply, feeling tingles all the way down to his toes and right out his cock. "Ohhh...s'good... again."

Dean straddles him a little higher up so it's easier to reach Sam's head. He rubs all over his scalp and scritches with his short nails. Sam is practically writhing under him. He's never done this for his Sam, only for Lisa, who loved it.

Sam flings his arms wide, hands clawing into each side of the mattress, "DE-E-E-A-A-ANNNN!" He's sure if Dean kept doing this or found a small trigger spot he could cum like this.

"Seems like you're about to have a moment," Dean says near his ear. "Should I keep going?" His hand is still moving very gently through the dark hair. He's turned on himself, by now. The harsh come-ons at the beginning had turned him off, but this Sam, vulnerable and relaxed, is another matter.

Pressing his face into the pillow, "My ears... please?"

Oho. He's glad Sam asked, because he might never have thought to try the ears. He strokes his fingers behind them, feeling the shape of them, trying to find what Sam likes most.

Sam yips while his whole body bucks off the bed, his hips driving down into the mattress, seconds later he's utterly boneless. "I can't believe I just did that."

"Wow," Dean chuckles, his breath warm on Sam's ear. "Cheap date. I kind of like that." Getting up to let him up, "So that's where your magic button is." Everybody has one.

Sam pounces and flattens Dean under him, his big hands holding Dean's wrists down to the bed as he shifts over him. "It's one of them. Where are yours?" Leaning down and daring to steal a soft kiss to his mouth.

"Like I'd just tell you?" He arches his back, undulating against Sam's body as it presses him down. It's more exciting than he would have expected. "Isn't it more fun to find out?"

Shifting so he can sit across Dean's hips, stroking his hands down those long arms, down his chest to wiggle under his shirt and stroke up his chest. "Oh I suppose so." Finding his nipples and gently rubbing, his shirt now rucked up so Dean's belly is exposed.

"Jesus," gasping, because Sam's already found it. Not both nipples. One of them is just, okay, nice. The left one though, when touched, makes him moan like a porn star. "Crap, you're good."

"Oh... so you like this?" Getting his T-shirt up over his head and flinging it away. Licking his lips as he leans down again to place feather light kisses over his chest, tongue flicking over one nipple then the other.

Dean gasps a little at one nipple and then when Sam's tongue touches the sensitive one, moans again. He's not even trying to be obvious, but he might as well be singing 'sweet mystery of life at last I found you'. It is his magic button. He's hard and panting and no longer interested in denying how hot Sam makes him. Or how hot it was to have made him come just touching his back and scalp and ears.

Sam moves to nibble at his neck, then gently teeth an earlobe, "You're so damn sexy."

"Hn. Thanks." Sam has let go of his wrists, but he doesn't move his arms from where Sam left them. He has no idea what to expect, but he's curious. And it's hot. "Don't stop."

Stroking his arms again, taking pleasure in just feeling how strong Dean is. Running his hands over that well toned chest, noting the various scars from claws, knives, bullets, was that _teeth?_ Sitting up over him again, "I want to see you naked." Fingers hooking on his jeans and hesitating, "May I?"

"Since you ask so nicely," giving him a lean little grin. "You may." He's nervous actually, just because... Just because. Not that the touching so far has been platonic, it's just. Moment of truth kind of thing.

Sam scrambles from the bed, drops his own clothing to the floor then kneels back over Dean. Sharing a wicked grin with him he flips the button open then pulls the zip down with his teeth. Pushing aside the fabric to nuzzle at the cotton covered flesh  inside. "Mmm. For me?"

"Nn!" says Dean, but it's not an answer to the question. "Jesus. Sam." Rolling his hips up to rub himself against Sam's face. "Come on, baby. Don't tease." 'Baby' just slips out. It might have a little to do with how much younger this Sam is, but it might not.

"Oh... but I like to tease." Puffing warm breath over the trapped flesh, then licking his way inside the closure to tease with the tip of his tongue.

Dean groans. "Thought you wanted to see me naked," rolling his hips up again and sucking in his breath when Sam's tongue teases in to touch him directly.

Lifting his head, "Eager little thing, aren't you?" Hooking his fingers in the jeans and easing them down his hips, not wanting to cause pain. Once the material is down off his legs and puddled on the floor, Sam takes a good long look at him.  He was Dean, bigger, more muscle and different scars, but still Dean. "Beautiful."

"Eager big thing, more like." Dean is used to talking in bed and sees no reason to stop now. He flexes the muscles at the base of his cock to make it twitch, and then quirks his eyebrows.

"Oh you think yours is big... " Moving up so their hips align and he palms them both together, "I think I've got an inch on you, buddy."

"You being bigger doesn't make me little." Dean doesn't know it, but this concept wouldn't even occur to the other Dean. "Maybe you're an inch _too big._ You're totally four or five inches too tall."

Jaw drops, "I am _not_ too tall. You're just _short_." Letting go of their cocks so he can better grind his hips down into Dean's. "I think I should shut you up." Claiming those sinfully pink soft lips with his own.

Now that's more like it. His hands slide and grip along Sam's muscular back as his hips rock up into Sam's in counterpoint. Dean is very good at kissing and it's nice to know Sam is, too.

It feels so good to be touched again, he's missed this and didn't even know it. Didn't know he missed kissing Dean, and here he is getting all the greatest things there are about him.

Dean feels a change in Sam's rhythm and takes advantage of it, rolling them over so he's on top of Sam. Still kissing, still grinding together. He doesn't strictly object to somebody else doing all the work, but there's a natural give and take to things. "You talked a big game earlier. I admit it. The thought of fucking you gets me hot. You wanna?"

Opening his legs wide for him, "You want me to go clean up a little?" Now he can grip and stroke that obscenely powerful back.

"If you want." Dean's had anal sex with girls a few times, but he didn't know anything about what they did to get ready.

"Yeah... um... give me a few minutes?"

"Take your time. I'll go check the food." Which he's entirely happy to do naked. Not that he'd really COOK that way. The kitchen smells really good now, and that pie looks... Really tempting.

Sam raids Dean's bathroom and comes up short for what he's looking for. Well damn. So instead he does his best to try and go and then washes himself back there as well as he can. If he was around later he'd be making a store run.

Dean is vague about what Sam is doing in there, another differing point from the other Dean, whose whole world had contracted to worrying about these details in the vain attempt to make Sam happy. He's still half hard in anticipation. When he recalls Sam reminiscing about riding his Dean's cock in the back seat of Baby, he's back at full attention and leaking precum. He never did that with his Sam, but the thought of it is like a drug.

Sam waits on the bed, wondering how he'll get back, will it just happen? "Dean?"

Dean saunters back in. "All good?" Again, vague on the details. "I oughta walk around this place naked more often. It's kind of fun."

Sam leers at him, "And have sex in every room."

"Yeah, see, now you're talking. Wanna start with this one?" Yeah. Definitely fun to be naked when someone's looking at you like Sam is looking at him.

Spreading his legs wide, "I wanna taste you first." Motioning him closer as he sits on the edge of the bed.

Dean moves closer, and it crosses his mind to tease but he's been waiting a while and he'll have to put himself at Sam's mercy. "You can taste as much as you want."

Slipping down to his knees, hands closing on Dean's hips and taking that thick cock in his mouth. Sighing around him, looking up through his lashes at Dean to see his face.

"Jesus _fuck_ ," Dean groans, his hands framing Sam's jaws - but gently. "God, Sammy, that's so goddamn good, suck me."

And he does, pulling out every trick in the book, flicking the tip of his tongue over the slit, under the flared head, down the thick vein on the underside. One hand curls around a Dean's backside, fingers teasing between his cheeks, his other hand cupping his balls. Long fingers wiggling as he holds him.

"Gonna come, baby boy," he groans, "you're gonna make me come with that amazing fucking mouth," he jumps a little in surprise at Sam's wandering fingers, but it's not like he's NEVER had anybody's finger there. Rhonda Hurley had been really enthusiastic about it, and he'd done it himself a little since. It's only a little surprise but it's a big reaction, it tips him over from talking about coming to coming. "JESUS SAM!"

It's nothing for him to swallow Dean down, he's done it lots of times before. Letting his eyes close in bliss as he drinks him down, tonguing him a little even though he knows how sensitive Dean is right after coming.

Shuddering, Dean finally pushes Sam gently back, stroking his hair. "God... damn. You are so... damn good at that." He sounds and feels just a little drunk.

Sitting on his heels and slowly licking his lips, "I'm good at a lot of things. Just try me."

"I believe you," fervently. "You might have to give me a few minutes to reload though." Dean hasn't had sex with anyone since he was cured of being a demon. He'd been a little afraid of his own behavior and he wasn't willing to test it on some girl who didn't deserve that.

Sam stands up and pulls Dean to the bed with him, "I can wait." Wrapping himself around Dean, learning his powerful body with his hands.

Dean usually exits beds before snuggling can commence. He's not sure he's good at it. But Sam is like a big dog that's decided to be in your lap. And... it is nice to just touch. For no reason. Or for no other reason than that it feels good.  And his hair is so soft and silky between Dean's fingers.

Sam purrs into his neck, butting his head into Dean's hand as he gently nips at Dean's throat.

More cat than dog, then. "So you're good at a lot of things, huh. What do you like?"

"I've missed being touched, it was the whole reason it started. Hugging wasn't enough, I needed him on a deeper level, and once we got skin to skin contact... he's like a drug. And the blood... it started to protect him, then it became an obsession... then I hurt him with it."

Dean thinks about this for a long moment while stroking Sam's hair with one hand and his back with the other. "I can maybe see how that could happen... Once. But I don't see why he'd let you keep doing that. I wouldn't." Dean has the luxury of not knowing what it was like for that other self, of course.

Sam buries his head into Dean's chest, "I kept him." Chained against a wall, locked in the basement, beat him until he couldn't move.

"That's fucked up." His voice is flat, but his hands are still moving. "So you were afraid he'd leave then. What are you going to do when you go back?"

"Make sure he's set up for life, beg for his forgiveness, try and earn it every day of my life. Leave him alone if that's what he wants."

"That's a pretty good answer." If he means it. "He might forgive you. Maybe." It occurs to him that they're saying 'when' and not 'if'. And they have no way of knowing that.

A fine tremor wracks his body, he was starting to feel the pull of needing to drink. "Would you? If your Sam did that to you?"

He can feel the vibrations and uses both hands on Sam's back. "I don't know." He thinks about being imprisoned alone in that chair in the dark, Sam shooting him up with consecrated blood that burned him with agony from the inside out. "He's only ever hurt me to help me."

This makes him look up, "How would you hurt someone to help them?"

He's not going to say exactly what he was thinking, but there's an available analogy. "For example. Locking Sam up to make him dry out. He was screaming in there, suffering. But it helped him."

Nodding, "If… if it gets to that, lock me up. And if it... if I can't be detoxed, then end me. I don't want to go back to him like this."

Dean looks him in the eyes. "Listen. Of course you can be detoxed. If you actually mean it. But that does mean, lock you up. You're gonna have such a bad time I can't even imagine. But I'll help you. If it's what you want."

Nodding his head, "Yes please. I owe it to him to go back human. I have... worlds to make up for."

Dean leans in and gives him a long, slow kiss. "Okay. You're starting to shake. How bad is it? Do we need to lock you down now?"

"After dinner maybe." Snuggling in against him, "How much longer did it say until it was done?"

"When I was in there, about an hour." That's almost up now, actually. "Yeah, you should eat if you're hungry." Sam had lost all appetite for food for a frighteningly long time.

Kissing the corner of his mouth "Then I believe I owe you a good ride."

"If you're up for it, yeah." If Sam is starting to get sick, it can wait.

"I suppose we should clean up and go eat. Maybe at least in some pants? Not that I don't like watching you walk around naked."

"Heh. Oh, yeah." He helped Sam ruin the ones he was wearing. "Let me rummage you up some more of Sam's." Pulling some sweatpants on and slipping down the hall to Sam's room. While he's there, he looks around. "I hope you're okay, Sam," he breathes. "Wherever you are. I hope - " But he can't finish the thought. He goes back to his room with sweatpants for this other Sam.

Dressing he washes up and heads for the kitchen. The chicken dish is ready, "Ohhh mmmmm now we need beer and plates. Oh this smells so good." His stomach gives a noise of approval as he scoops out portions of the meal.

Dean sets the table and gets the beer. "You're a good cook." He runs his hand down Sam's back as he passes behind him. Sam said he likes being touched, and it turns out Dean likes it a lot too.

Sam shivers at the touch but in a good way, "I did like to do this. Now it's fine dining places and takeout."

"Some of each isn't so bad. When you go back, cook for him." He sits down. "Can't hurt, when it's as good as this." And there's PIE.

"I do bring cheese burgers. Are they your favorite too?"

"Hell yeah. On the road, though. I like home cooking even better, but here I'm the one that can cook." He remembers his mom making mashed potatoes. They were so good. Sam doesn't have memories like that so 'home cooking' never meant anything to him.

"Oh? What do you make?" Spearing a section of chicken with is fork and humming happily around it as he chews.

"I'm good at spaghetti. I made a chicken pot pie for Christmas, but it got burned." A case interfered. "Some of it was still edible. I do good breakfast." Wow, that sounds pathetic. "I didn't say I was a _great_ cook. THIS is pure awesome." Shoveling some in appreciatively.

"I'll leave you the recipe."

"Okay. Thanks." Dean is hungry and the food is so good that he is too busy eating to talk much.

Sam works through his, but he can feel himself going downhill. The shakes are starting and the food sits oddly in his belly, what he wants isn't this. He makes it through the pie before sitting back in his chair, "Dean... I think you need to lock me up." Licking his lips, he feels nauseated and thirsty.

Dean's attention is instantly diverted from the pie. "Okay Sammy." He gets up: he moves slowly, talks quietly. "Just come with me then and I'll take care of you. Okay?"

Sam nods, getting up and following him, this was going to be Hell. He did trust Dean to get him through this.

Sam's anxiety ratchets up as Dean straps him down to a bed, "Sorry to make you go through this."        

From the doorway, "Neither of you have to, you know."         

Sam's head whips over, "Who in the Hell is that?"

"How do you even get _in_ here?" snaps Dean. He likes seeing Crowley even less than usual. "And what do you want?" To Sam, "that's Crowley. He's a crossroads demon."

Puffing up, "I am the _King of Hell,_ thank you _very_ much." Sauntering into the room, careful to keep to the edges of the Devil's Trap. "I've been doing a little research, you see, and I happen to know how this one got here, and how Moose ended up _there_."

Dean's eyes narrow. "That means, you're behind it. What's in this for you?" Glancing aside at Sam, who is already starting to suffer from withdrawal.

"Actually - _You're_ behind it. Well, _his_ you. Seems he's a very nasty piece of work in his dimension and his Dean had enough and made a deal. He happened to make a deal with my alternate version."  

Sam pales, "A deal... his soul??"    

"Yes, but I... or my other me can alter that deal."

Dean stares, but he can't say, _That's crazy_ or _I don't believe you_. He can very well believe it, even knowing the little he does about how nasty a piece of work this Sam has been in his world. "So what are you up to now?" he demands. "You're not even the version of Crowley that made the deal?"

"No, but Hell works in mysterious ways, we've talked and come up with a plan. It involves curing him _and_ you. Then sending him back home and bringing Moose back here."

Dean can't believe what he's hearing, "What do you mean... curing him AND ME? This is to cure _him_ . There's nothing to be done for _me_."

"Oh yes there is, it's a bit tricky, but it can be done. If you're willing."

"What's tricky about it? Why wouldn't I be willing? Of course I wanna be cured."

Sam doesn't even know what they're talking about.

Crowley just reaches over and touches Dean's forehead, quickly saying four words in Latin, then vanishing. Sam's eyes flick from where the demon was to where Dean is - and _gasps_. Dean's eyes are solid black.

It's so sudden that the breath he gasped in as a human is exhaled as a demon. The human Dean would have cursed Crowley, but now he's just fine. Why does he keep fighting this so hard? It feels _good_ , better than being human does. He's always miserable as a human. But being a demon is kind of fun.

There won't be any curing him this time, of course. This Sam won't even want to! He laughs out loud. "Should I let you up, Sammy? Or would it be more fun to just leave you like this?"

"What... what _are_ you?" He knows the answer, but how did he become a demon, without being possessed?

Dean climbs on top of him and stares into his eyes from two inches away. "What. Do. I. Look. Like?"

Swallowing, "A demon... but you aren't possessed. _You_ are a demon. How... how is that _possible?"_

Dean blinks his eyes back to green. He likes the effect the black has on people, but it makes lights too bright. "See this?" showing Sam the Mark on his arm. "You didn't seem curious about it. Maybe you thought it was a burn? Maybe your Dean has a _bunch_ of those...? This is the Mark of Cain. I died and now I'm a Knight of Hell. That's what I am."

Gaping, "A Knight of Hell... " Looking from the Mark up to his green-again eyes. "And what are you going to do with me now?"

"Let me think. What do you _deserve_ to have me do to you, Sam? I bet... a lot." Sitting up and looking down at him. "How you feeling right now? You look sweaty. Getting chills yet? My Sam shook so hard he had bruises." He lies down on top of Sam, draping his weight on him till he can whisper in Sam's ear, "Maybe I should fuck you when you really start shaking. You'd be like an epileptic whore. Nice! I can just let you do all the work."

Swallowing, "Do anything you want." He deserves it after what he's done to his Dean. "You could let me drink and see which of us is stronger."

" _Hah_ . That's all you can think about! You're not even shitting bricks that I'm a demon, you're like, _'ooh, prime rib!'"_ He gets up off of Sam and leers at him. "Don't know what Crowley could have been thinking. Whenever I'm done with you, I'll go cut him up into little pieces, and the little shit will probably enjoy it."

Nodding, "Let me up. Please." His eyes locked on Dean, evidence of his arousal clear in his tented pants.

"Hmmm. Why not." Coming closer, "How's it gonna be when I do? You gonna beg me for it, or try to take it from me? Let's find out." He unstraps Sam.

Sam's on him, shoving him back and then backhanding him across the face with his closed fist. Following him down to the floor and sinking his teeth in at Dean's neck with a growl of raw need.

 _"There_ ya go!" he laughs and growls at the same time, eyes gone black but he's not fighting at all. "Go on, suck me, baby boy, got what you need." It hurts, but he heals quick. And it feels good too.

Moaning deep as his need is sated, he sags over him, panting and grinding his hips down into Dean's. "Fuck... so amazing... pure... like nothing else."

Dean shoves him over onto his back and looks at his blissed out face. "Pure, huh. Glad you like it." Getting on top of him and grinding them together. "That all you want? I'm not even dizzy."

Shaking his head a little, "You don't get it... you ARE a demon, the others... demons inside a human, _you_ taste fucking awesome. Like uncut coke." Reaching down to grab his hips, "Fuck me, Dean. Any way you want."

Dean makes short work of the clothes Sam is wearing, stripping him naked. He doesn't bother about his own clothes except for getting his cock out. "Get on your hands and knees."

Sam scrambles to do so, canting his ass up in the air. "Do it!"

Dean spits on his hand, slicks up his cock and thrusts in hard. His human self would have wasted so much time _pussying around_ when Sam obviously _wants it._

Screaming out as he's taken, it burns as he's torn, but the pain is so good. His brain is swimming in the endorphins from feeding off Dean and only gets drunker as his prostate is slammed into. Bucking back into him, panting and crying out in breathless rhythm.

Dean bites at his fingertips till they run freely with blood and then leaning forward, shoves them into Sam's mouth as he pistons his cock in and out. Tight and good and hot and _Sam_ , and why has he never _had_ this before, why did he hunt Sam with a hammer when THIS was what he wanted to pound him with?

Slurping hungrily around the fingers, cumming across the floor as it all mixes in his body. Screaming loud enough to shake the walls, fighting to get away from Dean's hold on him. Turning to shove him backward and take his cock into his mouth, sucking voraciously.

"Goddamn, _fuck_ yes, _suck it_ you _dirty bitch,"_ hands in his hair and growling, full demon, eyes black. He throws his head back and snarls as he fills Sam's mouth with hot cum.

Licking and sucking at any stray drops he missed, licking his lips and looking up at him. "I want you naked." Hands grabbing at the jeans to get them off. "Want to get balls deep in you, drink you dry. Then do it again."

His human self would have pussied around about _that_ too - _being fucked_ \- but now, what the hell, why not. Sam was like a drug for him, too. Just wallowing in it like this together.

Sam drags his jeans off and Dean pulls off his shirts. Raking his eyes over him, then scraping down his chest with his fingers and fingernails. Watching as the red lines vanish almost instantly, grinning, "Wicked. I want that... to heal like that and then do it again and again."

Dean quirks his lips in a smile, then gives Sam a lazy but powerful backhand slap. Just because he can. Just as a reminder of which Dean he isn't. "Suck enough of my blood and you'll probably find out."

Licking at his split lip, his teeth having caught it just right, snarling he lunges down on him. Clashing their mouths together, viciously biting Dean's lip to suck on his blood.

They wrestle like naked animals, biting at each other's mouths. Unlike Sam he doesn't have a desire for blood itself, but something about Sam's blood is unexpectedly good. His hands are on Sam's back, not even struggling anymore.

Dean's mouth is good, always has been, such lush lip to suckle. It's less now about his blood than just licking into his mouth, teasing out little sounds of pleasure. Their grappling softens, slows, ends with just them rocking slowly against each other on the cold hard floor. Lifting his head to see the blood smeared on Dean's lips, "How about.. the bed?" The cold can't be good for all of Dean's injuries.

"Mmm." He's a little... out of it. They crawl to hands and knees and onto the bed. Dean's arms close around Sam. The bed is small. They'll fall off otherwise.

Sam holds him close and tight, the kissing slow and deep now as they come down from a high.   He jerks his mouth away and covers Dean with his body as the sounds of slow clapping invades the room. "Touching. Really. If you're quite done now, I'll return you to where you belong."

Dean looks up to see Crowley and he groans in disbelief. "What the hell, you sad jealous fuck." He doesn't realize what's happened but he feels - strange.

Crowley rolls his eyes, "You're _welcome_. I'll go make coffee, you two .. shower and dress." Turning around to leave them, "Really some people just don't get what I do for them."           

"Dean?"

Dean frowns. Tries to make his eyes go black. Then closes them. "It's gone." He looks incredulously at his arm. "It's _gone?"_

Sam looks at his forearm, "The Mark? So you're not a demon anymore?"

"I... Don't know." Looking at Sam with a lost look of confusion. "I was. I was _enjoying_ it. And now I - I don't understand. You? Are you -?" Disappointed to lose the blood.

"I think I'm clean. I don't feel the need." Stroking Dean's hair then down his back, "You okay?"

"I don't know." The things he _did_ and _said_ just minutes ago. "I'm - " He can't even speak. "But. But you're okay."

"Little sore, gonna feel that for a bit." Cupping his face with one  hand, "I'm okay though. Why don't we do that shower? Get ourselves sorted out a little bit?"

At the word 'sore' Dean averts his face in shame, but then Sam is pulling him up. "Okay. Yeah. Okay."

Sam hugs him once they're standing, "I'm okay Dean. You didn't do anything I didn't ask for."

"I guess," Dean says, but he isn't sure. It's even harder this time than it was last time, to realize he's normal. And now - for good? He focuses on Sam, looks him in the eyes. "We're both okay?" Trying to reassure himself.

Cupping his face with both hands, kissing him softly and slowly. "Yes. We're both okay - somehow. Your Sam will be back soon, and probably very clingy and attentive."

"And you. What are you gonna say to your Dean?" He's holding tight, though, caressing Sam's back. "Will you be all... clingy and attentive?"

"If he'll let me. I'll wait on him hand and foot. Maybe the King of Hell will give us a day or two before flipping us back? A chance to just... BE for a minute."

"I don't know if waiting on him hand and foot is the right thing," says Dean doubtfully, "but yeah. I wouldn't mind... Some time." They get into the shower together.

Sam is attentive to him, washing his short hair, massaging his shoulders. "What about your Sam? Are you gonna take a chance with him?"

Dean groans. "I can't do that. He wouldn't want that. Not from me." This Sam is the 'bad one' but in his world he's the 'bad one'. Or he _was_.

Kissing him again gently, "Ask him. Promise me, you'll ask him. Because if he's been with my Dean, he's BEEN with my Dean. Which means he wants you."

He puts his arm around Sam's neck and kisses him, long and slow. "Okay. I'll ask him." The thought of him being with somebody else, though, even another Dean, is _weird_. He doesn't know what to picture.

Purring into the kiss, "Good, because he's gonna be all over you. And he loves you."

He looks down, and catches sight of his arm again, the skin smooth with no trace of the Mark ever having been there. "He'll be happy about this."

Sam bends down and kisses the bare spot, "Honestly... I am too."

"I guess we did each other a big favor without knowing it." Then he realizes, "Crowley did us the favor."

"Yeah, guess he had this all planned out." Pulling him in close again, big hands stroking his back, "All clean? Wanna get dressed and get some answers?"

"Yeah." But first he takes a long, tight hug, leaning into Sam and closing his eyes. There's a possibility (Dean thinks) that when his Sam finds out what he's done, there might not be any more of these. Let alone anything more. Those two were like that in their world. But in this world it wasn't like that, no matter how much Dean might have wished for it. His Sam never crawled into his bed the way this Sam says he did.

Sam keeps touching and petting Dean, who seems to need the reassurance, as they dress and then head to the kitchen. Crowley has helped himself, it seems, and there are three thick steaks waiting, with sides. Sitting in a chair, his feet propped up on another, sipping a beer, "Ah boys, do come in, dinner's ready."

"You can cook?" But it smells fantastic. He takes a bite. "You CAN cook. Damn."

Making a gesture with his hand, "I am a man of many talents. Curing you of the Mark of Cain the least amongst them." Sam settles in, letting his leg and knee rub against Dean's. "Yeah, how did that work?"       

Crowley slices into his own steak, "Oh, that? It seems it's just a curse, an old one, one of the first. And curses like that need some good old-fashioned sex and blood magic."

"It cured _him_ , too. Also sex magic?" His face is very hot to be saying the word 'sex' within fifty miles of Crowley.

"Yes, well... the blood sharing probably would have worked, but you don't feed on blood, so it had to be sex. Good thing Sam here has the hots for you, Squirrel."

Dean lets out an impatient sigh at the nickname and aggressively eats his steak. "Yeah, good thing."

"Or what Squirrel? You're free of the Mark, Sam is free of the demon blood without the risk of detox and I'll be sending him home in forty-eight hours. It's a win-win, boys."       

Sam nods, "Why forty-eight hours?"   

"Well, I _do_ have to coordinate with the other side, and Moose needs to give your Dean some TLC so he's not a complete basket case when you return."      Sam hangs his head in shame, his steak catching in this throat.

"All right, okay. Thank you. Or should I really thank other me? He sold his soul, didn't he? How long did he get?" That poor bastard.

"Please, you think I want any of you stuck down there with me? He'll get to live a long life and go up, not down."       

Sam drops his fork on his plate, "He will?  You're not going to take him?"   Crowley shakes his head, "After living with YOU, that boy has had enough. You, on the other hand... I might keep for a few decades."

"You were going to anyway," Dean realizes. "What do you mean decades? Not forever?"

Rolling his eyes at him, "Has HE told you any of what he's _done_ to his brother?"  

Sam just hangs his head, "Not much. Please don't tell him. He doesn't need that in his head."

"I know about that." Flatly. Dean knows very well he doesn't know the half of it. "What I'm saying is, I never heard of a Hell sentence that wasn't forever. You're showing him mercy."

"No, I'm showing _that Dean_ mercy. _His_ heaven isn't complete without ass-face here."

"Oh," and then he has nothing else to say. He looks at Sam. The thought of Sam, his Sam going to Hell ever again is _awful_. This Sam - it's not much better, for all the bad things he must have done.

"Cheer up you two, you'll die old and shriveled like raisins."

"Okay, thank you fairy godmother." Crowley has become _sentimental_ since they almost cured him, but this is frankly amazing. "So forty-eight hours?"

"Yes. So ball each other's brains out, I won't be back until then."

Crowley has already disappeared when Dean yells after him, "You're showing your age, nobody says 'ball' anymore," then "HEY you bastard you could have left the _steak!"_

"I can make you one, or we could go out?" He doesn't feel hungry, he's not sure he ever will again with the heavy guilt now, hanging in his belly.

"No. I ate most of mine, it's just the principle of the thing, what a _dick_." Then he sees the look on Sam's face. "Hey. Are you okay?"

Shaking his head, lower lip trembling, eyes batting quickly to forestall tears. "What I did... how could I do that to him..."

Dean pulls him up into his arms. "Demon blood. That's what it does. You did bad things. You did _demon_ things. But you also chose to stop. You _chose_ to give it up, the hard and painful way, because you didn't want to hurt him anymore. You told me that. Remember?"

Nodding slowly, "Just feel so bad... and I should just suck it up... " Clinging hard to him, pressing his face into Dean's shoulder and neck. "I love him. I do... I can't... "

"Gonna be okay." Holding him the way he sometimes did when they were kids, and Sam had another nightmare about the ceiling being on fire. He doesn't say 'it IS okay' because obviously it isn't now. But it's gonna be. They'll be together in Heaven. They've just had confirmation of that. Dean can only hope for the same grace someday. But he's been a demon. He doesn't know.

Sam heaves a sigh and nods against him, "What... what do you want to do with our time?"

"Think I'd like to take care of you a little. You look like you need it." Stroking his hair, "You didn't look all that hungry. Let's just, I don't know. Watch something you like. Or maybe they have different stuff in your world. You should see if you recognize any of the movies in Sam's room."

Looking shyly at him, "Popcorn and a couch involved in this?"

"Hell yes to popcorn, and we can move the TV to face one of those nice couches in the library." Dean prides himself on making popcorn the 'old fashioned way'.

"Noticed you didn't have one in your bedroom." Feeling silly standing here in Dean's arms but he's not about to move away either.

Dean realizes at the same time that what they're doing is Not Normal, but Sam looked so miserable. He rubs Sam's back a few times, then lets go. "Nah. It's too much like still living in motel rooms. Sam doesn't care, but it doesn't seem like home that way." Moving to get the popcorn, "Maybe you could get the TV? and the player thing on it. And see if any of the movies look good."

Sam leans in and kisses his cheek, "Okay. I'll go find something. Um... which way was the library?"

Dean walks out and points it out to Sam, "See, that couch is awesome, I've said we oughta put the TV here." And points which way Sam's room was, just in case. "I know you were in it, but I got lost in this place for like the first two weeks."

Sam nods, "Gotcha!" He raids Dean's room first for a blanket and pillows, then the TV, then starts flipping channels to find something.

Dean makes the popcorn and brings it out in triumph, along with a cold six pack. And some napkins. "Here it is. What are we watching?"

"Uh... horror, comedy or action?"

"How about comedy." They had enough horror around.

Sam selects whatever is newest and then pulls his long limbs up on the sofa, his back against it when he pats the cushions, "C'mere."

Dean goes to him and snuggles in. It's awesome. The couch seems to be designed for this. And it's a good dumb comedy, doesn't require much brain power. And the popcorn is perfect.

Sam has one arm propped to hold up his head, the other his slung around Dean's torso to steal bites of popcorn. Which he drops frequently enough that Dean just turns his head to catch them.

Dean licks butter off Sam's fingers and sighs with contentment. During a lull in the movie he says, "You'll get to do this again." When he got home.

"You too. Wanna watch another one or just fool around?"

"Both."


	5. Chapter 5

Dean wakes up in warm comfort and confusion. He's not alone. Oh God he  _ fell asleep in Sam's bed. _ Sam hasn't caught him yet. He's got to get back to his place on the floor. But - wait, this is not - Sam's bed. This is  _ Bobby's _ bed? Memory rushes through him. This is the  _ other  _ Sam. The one who traveled. But it's hard to make his heart stop pounding after the rush of fear.

Sam shifts and reaches for him, "De??" Opening his eyes to see him sitting there panicked. "Dean?"

"It took me a minute to remember where I was. I woke up, I thought -" Shrugging one shoulder.  "Got scared. Sorry if I woke you up." He's had years of conditioning he won't be able to undo just like that.

Reaching up for him, "C'mere." Gently enfolding Dean into his arms, rubbing his back, kissing his forehead. "It's okay."

Dean shudders as he slowly, slowly relaxes into the warmth of Sam's embrace. "Thank you." He's grateful for Sam's understanding,  instead of being hurt that Dean thought he was the other Sam. His own Sam.  _ Where are you?  _ he wonders. _ Is there really hope? _

Waiting for him to fully relax again, "How about we strip the bed and go get some breakfast?"

"Yes," perking up at useful tasks to do, and breakfast. He's never felt so hungry and had it feel  _ pleasant _ , something he knows will be taken care of soon. It's a weird feeling.

Kissing him chastely, "Open the windows up, Bobby'll shoot us if the room still stinks of sex."

Dean snickers. "We shouldn't've used his bed." But he doesn't sound or feel sorry. In fact it's kind of hilarious. He opens the window, though. 

"No, but... well, the mood struck, and you're so damn beautiful, I couldn't help myself."

Dean looks at him through his eyelashes with a little smile. "I couldn't help myself either." Eyes warm on Sam as he remembers what Sam let him do last night and how good it was.

"After breakfast do you want to not help yourself again?"

The smile gets bigger. "Oh God yes." The room sorted out, "Breakfast?" in hopeful tones. "Now?"

Sam giggles and grabs him up, carrying him down the stairs after they pulled on pants at least. "What would you like? Eggs, pancakes?"

"Yes!" He'll eat anything, really, and it's hard to choose. "Whatever you like. Can I help?" He hasn't been allowed in a kitchen for ages.

"Why don't you find the bacon or sausage, I'll work on the pancakes."

Dean looks in the fridge and finds the bacon. Mmmmmm oh  _ bacon _ . He finds a pan and puts slices in, trying to stay out of Sam's way.

Sam just reaches over him like he's used to doing. Soon he has the pancakes going, slicing up bananas and strawberries to go on them. By chance he finds chocolate chips and tosses them into the batter. While Dean stands beside he puts his arm around his shoulders.

"Oh my God," Dean moans, watching these magic pancakes being assembled, "oh man, I think I'm drooling. Am I drooling?" He tends the bacon very carefully. He doesn't like burned bacon.

Sam chuckles and makes at wiping his face, "Oh yeah, huge drool."

Finally breakfast is ready and Dean gorges himself on delicious food. He tries not to eat too fast. "Mmmmmm."

Sam makes sure Dean gets the lion's share of it all, keeping his glass full of orange juice. "Want to watch a movie and neck on the couch until we either want to find our room or Bobby comes home? We don't have to, we could just watch a movie or something."

"I like the first idea." He's  a little sleepy now from all this food even though he just woke up. A movie sounds just about right and necking even better. Lazy necking. All the time in the world kind of necking.

Leaning in to kiss him tenderly, "All right, movie and necking it is. Why don't you go pick one out, I'll clean up."

Dean finds himself immobilized by choices, standing in front of Bobby's movie shelf. He doesn't know what half of these movies and TV shows even are - he's been kept away from the world for a while.

Sam clatters about, cleaning up the mess before he drifts out to him. "Find anything?" Placing his hands on his shoulders before wrapping Dean in his long arms.

"I don't know what a lot of these are. I don't know what's good." He turns in Sam's arms to nuzzle his throat. "I don't care anyway, you pick something."

Sam grabs them Die Hard and pops it in, "Come settle on the sofa with me."

Oh, Dean remembers that one. They knew it by heart since they were kids. Excellent. He snuggles gratefully with Sam as the movie starts.

Sam tries to throw his voice as the villain, purring it into Dean's ear, teasingly nipping at his throat or upper arm where the T-shirt doesn't cover his bare skin.

Dean laughs delightedly because this Sam is not any good _ at all  _ at being a villain, and it's  _ awesome _ .

Slipping his hand up under Dean's shirt, nuzzling his neck. "So precious."

"Let's ignore the movie," Dean purrs, sliding his hands up Sam's thighs. "Take this stuff off. You're gorgeous naked. You should be naked a lot."

Rubbing against him from behind, "We could just pull our pants down... I could slide right between your thighs... stroke you off."

"Oooh," and that's more diverting than the awesome action scene going on on the screen. "Yeah, God yeah, please, Sam."

Sam quickly has their pants down to their knees, his cock sliding between Dean's thighs, poking the back of his balls. "How's that big brother?"

"That's good," and it's something he hasn't done before either. He laughs breathlessly. " _ You're _ the big brother."

"Only in size, De." Reaching down and gently cupping him, stroking his hand loosely around him.

But he's older, too, years older - Dean doesn't get around to pointing this out, because when Sam touches him he groans. The gentle touch is incredibly erotic to nerves that have been through so much. He arches his back, tightening his thighs a little on Sam's big cock.

Rocking his hips forward, "So strong... " tightening his fingers around him.

Dean thrusts into Sam's hand a little, almost drunk on the freedom of being able to just have pleasure and not be afraid of doing or saying something wrong or having the wrong look in his eye. "Sam," he pants. "Want you to come all over me."

"I can do that... like this?" Kissing the shell of his ear, "Or should I sit over your legs and give you a show?"

"Show, give me a show!" They squiggle around on the couch. Dean looks up at Sam with panting admiration.

Sam manages to get his pants and shirt off, then runs his hands over his torso. "Tell me what you want me to do... should I pinch my nipples...." Doing so with both hands, pulling and punching at them.

"That's nice. Lick your fingers," because his nipples look so sexy when they're wet.

Sam does, sucking on his fingers and leaving them good and wet to return to rubbing and teasing his nipples. "Like this, lover?"

"Yeahhh," starry-eyed and wriggling. "You are so fucking beautiful." Glancing down, licking his lips, "Take your time touching your cock."

Sam glides his hands down his torso and then lightly trails his fingers over his cock. "LIke this? Just slow and teasing?"

Dean nods. He's so turned on watching Sam, he doesn't need anything else, at least not yet. "Slow as you can stand."

Licking his lips he stills, two fingers supporting himself while the other fingertips trail over his flesh. Slowly, thumb and finger touching the head, smearing the precum and just teasing. A shiver wracks his body, it's amazingly intense. "Tell me... what you... want to... do most, Dean."

"I wanna lay you down on your back and ride your cock," he says hoarsely. "God I want it in me so bad."

Sam shudders, "That... that sounds amazing... Gonna... wear a cowboy hat for me?" Still slowly teasing himself with his fingers, working down his shaft now, trailing softly over the skin at the base of his cock.

Dean looks at him with big eyes and blushes very hot. How does Sam know? "I... I could do that." But that would make Sam the horse! Or the  _ rodeo bull.  _ Mmm!

"I wanna take you upstairs and let you do that. Right now. Can we?"

He's asking DEAN'S permission? He blinks at Sam in total confusion. But Sam is actually waiting for an answer. "Yes," he says finally. "Yes we can. Let's go."

Not bothering to dress, just grabbing up his clothing, he leads the way up the stairs giving his ass a bit more shake to it for Dean. Once in the guest room he makes a show of bending over and looking for any lube. "Hah! Good ol' Bobby." Tossing it on the bed and turning to face Dean, "Got that hat, big boy?"

Dean grins and spreads his hands like 'I forgot it'. "Got that cock, Trigger?"

Unable not to, Sam gives a whinny and stamps his foot. "Need me to loosen you up?"

Dean laughs at the horse impression. But the question throws him for a loop. "Need to what...?" Finally he gets it. "Oh I... don't need that. As long as there's lube it's fine."

Brows knitting, "But... you do... like every time. Unless you're wearing a plug or something."

Dean pauses in confusion. His Sam didn't really care about that. He didn't always care about lube either. "Show me...?"

"Oh yes. Lie down on your belly." He hovers over him once he has, dropping his head down to leave gentle kisses from his neck down to his pert ass. He sees but doesn't see all the marks of abuse, just concentrates on making Dean feel good. Gently nudging his legs open he  then spreads his cheeks and licks between them.

_ Oh  _ \- he means  _ this _ . Dean likes this... A  _ lot _ . He spreads his legs wider and moans low in his throat. "Yes, please yes, more."

Giving a brief chuckle Sam does his best to get as deep as he can with his tongue. Dean was such a little sexpot!

The last time Dean felt this... Suddenly he stiffens, because the last time he felt this was  _ bad  _ and  _ hurt  _ and made him scream. Even though it feels good now, it also makes him remember, it was so recently and he doesn't want that to get in the way but it does. " _ Stop _ \- " he gasps.

Sam jerks back instantly, "Dean?" He doesn't touch him, just moves so he's beside him on the bed, in his line of sight.

"I don't wanna think about it," he moans. "I know you won't hurt me, you aren't hurting, it felt good. I'm sorry."

His hand overing near Dean's shoulder, "Can I hold you?"

"Yes. Please," he really doesn't know why even this Sam doesn't lose patience and just shake him or slap him. He's lost sight of where the line should be. Being nice shouldn't have to be a chore for Sam, he's sure of that much.

Sam quickly cuddles him close, stroking his hair, his back, "I've got you, you're safe." If he ever saw his doppelganger he'd throttle him, maybe kill him.

Dean nestles in his arms. He's ruined the mood, and they were having a nice time, too. He's sorry to have interrupted things. But he's grateful, too, that someone actually listened to him when he asked them to stop. That was something new.

Gently tipping Dean's chin up and kissing his mouth, just lightly to see if Dean wanted to continue. "Love you, De."

Sam rescues him from the spiral of thoughts and Dean is grateful. His eyes light and he smiles shyly. "Love you, too, Sammy." Kissing him back with renewed ardor, his hand in Sam's hair.

Stroking down his back, "You wanna keep going?" He had to know, he wouldn't do anything to make Dean feel pressured, "We can stay like this... face to face."

"I liked it," says Dean. "I didn't mean to remember. I wanna keep going. I wanna ride you. Please."

Big hands cupping his face, "There is nothing wrong with you remembering, it's working through it that's important. And you're doing so well."

Dean thinks he doesn't believe that, but the next thing he says is something he wouldn't have  _ dared  _ to say to his own Sam. "Talk it to death later and fuck me now."

He jerks his head back, blinks and then laughs deeply, grabbing Dean up against him. Placing firm kisses over his shoulder then his cheek and mouth, "Sir, yes sir!" There was his Dean, deep inside he was still there. Slowly trailing his hand down that wondrous body, slipping between his legs and gently teasing his hole, pressing in just a little.

Dean used to like laughing in bed. It's been a really long time for that. He kisses and nips the side of Sam's neck between saying, "Yes." and "More." quietly near his ear. Sam's hands are magic, and things are like they once were for Dean, but different, because this Sam is different. His touch is like what he remembers, but different. He doesn't know what to expect, but in a way that makes him excited and not afraid.

Sam finds the lube and soon has his fingers slicked up, teasing him as he kisses down his belly, tongue licking the definition lines of his abs.

Dean curls his toes. "Sam!" he pleads, fingers curling too in Sam's hair. His cock is leaking precum, and it's the most amazingly good torture.

Sam is gentle with him, scissoring his fingers inside him, stroking those silken insides. "You're so hot and tight. Gonna feel so good, lover."

"Please, Sam," begging, and sort of begging with a smile because he trusts he'll get what he's asking for. "Please, I'm so damn ready already!"

Chuckling softly, "Such a bossy bottom." Kissing his mouth as he pulls out his fingers, uncapping the lube again and coating himself liberally. "Ride me then, lover, show me what you got."

Dean makes a satisfied noise as he pushes Sam onto his back, then another, even more satisfied one as he aligns himself with Sam's cock and slowly sinks down. He'd really rather do it fast and hard but Sam is so worried about doing things  _ nicely _ . He closes his eyes and tips his head back, mouth opening in bliss.

Sam wraps his hands around Dean's thighs, "OH GOD!" Feeling Dean tight around him now is amazing. He tries to focus, "Yeah... come on baby, ride this big old horse."

Dean looks down at him, feeling the familiar magnificent stretch of Sam's big cock inside him, and realizes/remembers, this is not familiar to  _ Sam _ . This is  _ new _ . Even if he does this with his Dean later, this moment belongs to this Dean. "Sam," he groans, flexing his thighs and starting to ride him. "So good, Sammy..." Precum drips onto Sam's belly. He gives a Clint Eastwood squint. "Giddyup."

A groan rolling out of his mouth, "Dean... God... De... " He has to think of something horrible or he'll just go off.

Dean's breath is harsh in his throat as he rises and falls on the hard shaft, and he can see Sam is almost overwhelmed. He does and doesn't want to set Sam off - or try ordering him not to come - an exciting idea but this is the first time. So he lays himself down over Sam, his cock trapped throbbing between them, and kisses him fiercely.

Fingers tangling in Dean's short hair, holding his head gently as they kiss. Teeth gnashing accidentally in their fervor, his hips bucking up and pushing himself deep into Dean.

That faint taste of blood from Sam's bitten lip goes to something primal in Dean and he thrusts himself down hard on Sam's cock, grinding his cock against Sam's hard belly, gone wild in pleasure, then tightening deliciously in orgasm, moaning into Sam's mouth.

He can feel Dean tighten in waves around him and it's all he needs to grab him by the hips and thrust up hard into him. Screaming out his own climax, panting harshly into Dean's throat as he collapses over him.

"Mmmmm." He comes back slowly from deep, deep down. "Sam. Good." Sam's skin is under his fingertips and his lips and all against his own.

Placing his big hands on Dean's back, "Yes... very good." Once they can both breathe easily again, Sam gently rolls Dean to his side, "Stay here, lover." Placing a gentle kiss to his lips, "I'll be back in a minute." Getting up he makes for the bathroom down the hall, filling the tub up with warm scented water. He comes back for Dean and scoops him up in his arms, "How about a long soak in the tub?"

"That sounds awesome." Once they're together in the water he sighs with pleasure, but then says, "Your Dean would never let you do that in a million years, would he? Carry him."

"Only if he's too injured to protest would I get away with it. So thank you, for letting me." Kissing his cheek, "I'll treasure the memory."

Dean snorts, a little. "I hadn't thought of it like that." He'd been lifted and thrown by his own Sam countless times, but with his demon blood powers. Not by these strong arms. He kisses Sam's mouth in reply, slow and lazy.

Purring into the kiss, long fingers scritching lightly at Dean's scalp. Fumbling with his other hand to find the washcloth, dipping it in the hot water and lifting it to let it trail over the bits of Dean exposed from the water.

Dean wraps his limbs around Sam, far gone in bliss. His ass is much less sore than he's used to, so Sam was kind of right about that, but the feeling of Sam's big cock inside him remains, the very recent physical memory. His prostate is still vibrating inside him. This safe place, this good, older Sam, these things are working on Dean and waking up parts of him that had fled or hidden deep inside when he became a full-time victim. But he really chose not to be a victim when he made his deal at the crossroads.

They laze in the bath, Sam taking care to wash Dean, fondling him into hardness again. "You wanna cum again, lover?" Slowly tracing his thumb over the head, pressing in at the slit a little. He was hard himself but the edge was off so he could tease Dean as much as he could handle.

"Yeahh," he purrs, pushing into Sam's fondling hand. "Anything you want, Sammy?"

"I still owe you that show, rubbing my hands over myself, fingering myself open for you." Licking the shell of his ear, gentling biting the lobe.

Dean shudders and closes his eyes. "Yeah. You only just got started." Then Sam had asked Dean what  _ he  _ wanted.

"I suppose," undulating under him, "if you're all clean now... we could go back to the show." He's on fire now that he can touch Dean and express how much he wants and loves him.

"Oh hell yes. I wanna see you." They get out and dry each other off. He puts an arm around Sam's neck and kisses him. "But let me walk, okay?"His heart is beating fast suddenly. Sam made it clear that carrying him was something he really liked and  _ disappointing Sam _  is an adrenaline trigger. He's trying to fight it.

"Do I get to watch you walk?" Letting his hands trail down Dean's back to knead his buttocks.

"Absolutely." And for the first time Dean thinks,  _ Maybe I'm not completely broken. _

Sam gives a wolf whistle and saunters behind him, he was mentally planning one hell of a show for him. "I could spend hours just licking your body from head to toe."

Dean gives him a smile over his shoulder. "I could spend hours letting you do that."

Sam jogs a couple of steps and sweeps Dean in against him, spinning him around, cupping his face and kissing him quite thoroughly.

This does Dean good too, this sort of joyful grappling, and while the fact is Sam is stronger than he is, in much better shape even though he's older, and of course the size advantage, Dean can still hold his own. Breathlessly, "Come on. I wanna see you."

Looking down his body, "What... not enough of a view for you?" But he grins and follows like an eager puppy, happy to show off his body for his lover.

"Can't see anything while I'm kissing you, can I?" Sitting down on the bed, green eyes warm on Sam. "The view is amazing, actually."

Sam starts by flexing his body, upper arms and chest first, then works lower. Making his abs flex, his thighs then he gets his cock to jump up and down for him. He grins at him, "Too much for yah?" Teasing him, turning around and flexing in the same rotation from shoulders down to his ass cheeks. Making them clench and unclench individually. Then he bends over and spreads his cheeks, "Why don't you get the lube so I can open myself for you."

Dean blinks a few times, his mouth dry and all the blood from his brain drained into his cock. "I - Yeah," fumbling to get it. God! This Sam is REALLY built - his Sam did work out but obviously not this much. "Goddamn, you're so fucking hot I can't think." He gives Sam the lube.

Taking the tube and dropping to his hands and knees, ass toward Dean, slicking up his fingers so he can reach back and slowly breach himself. First just one finger, then two, but he's not really sure Dean can see anything. "Dean... spread me open... hold me so you can see."

Dean whimpers like a dog. He moves to do as Sam asked, spreads Sam's cheeks with his hands and involuntarily licks his lips.

"Oh God Sam," he mutters, his cock twitching with the desire to be buried in there, "you're gorgeous, I can't even tell you how beautiful that is. You look perfect. You - you feel ready? God I want you so much."

Pulling his fingers free, his hole twitching at their loss, "You don't want me to finish the show?"

"Is there more?" His voice goes up in amazement. He thought Sam was done, the way he was talking. "Oh baby. Finish the show, yeah, yeah."

Turning around to face him, "How close do you want me?" Getting to his feet, Dean's head right at cock level, his big hands holding his cock and balls. "Do you wanna watch me cum this close?"

"Yes," and Dean licks his lips meaningfully. "Front row, no poncho. Let me see it really  _ really  _ close."

Sam spreads his stance wide, one hand pulling on his balls, the other stroking himself slowly. He breathes in deeply, "I like thinking of your hands on me... touching me light and slow so I get really wound up but I can't cum. And then... when you want to you grab me hard and stroke me until I almost cum..." doing as his words describe, hips jerking him forward into his fist, "Then you just stop." He lets his hands fall away from himself, "I bet you can make me cum with just your voice."

"Maybe I can," says Dean, looking at how close Sam is to it, his big cock twitching slightly. He lets his voice go deep, "Look at you, Sammy. Look at you all hot and twitchy. Ready to give it up, baby boy? Ready to cum all over my face?" He's leaning very close so Sam can feel his breath - technically cheating, probably.

Shuddering from head to toe, "Dean... tell me more... what... what do you want to do to me after I cum?"

"I wanna throw you down," Dean says hoarsely, "put your knees next to your ears and fuck you into the mattress. With your cum still all over my face."

"AHHH!" Crying out and cumming hard, indeed covering Dean's face with spots of cum. The rush is so powerful his knees buckle and send him sprawling on the floor, cock still pulsing.

Dean is on him in a heartbeat, entirely willing to accept a floor in place of a mattress. Sam is mewling and trembling and completely willing to let Dean haul his legs up. His cock slides into Sam's hot, slick ass and feels him still twitching inside. He licks his lips and tastes Sam's cum and groans, moving his hips in a hard smooth rhythm, sinking in deep.

Grabbing his knees to keep his legs up, "Harder! Fuck me De! I wanna feel it for days!"

"Yes, yes, Jesus yes, Sammm," Dean gives him all he's got, hard,  _ harder  _ because Sam wants it  _ harder _ , and it's good,  _ so  _ good, he's growling through his teeth as he comes, pulsing balls-deep inside Sam.

Dean's cock pulses inside him, setting him off though his second orgasm is weak and he only pulses out a weak drop of cum. But it's  _ fantastic _ , feeling Dean take control, dominate, be  _ himself  _ in this. He slumps down on the carpet with a groan, he would definitely feel this for a day or two. He reaches back to awkwardly touch Dean's back in a one armed hug of sorts. "Dean... love you."

"Love you too Sammy." He's trembling, his voice is a harsh whisper. He lets Sam's legs down one at a time, without pulling out.

Able to wrap both arms around him, he does so, pressing kisses to his temple and forehead. "That... was... amazing."

"Yeah." He also kisses Sam's face, and from time to time their mouths meet.  _ "You're _ amazing."

Smiling against his mouth, "And in need of a bath again." His next words are cut off by the sound of someone in the kitchen, "Did you hear the door open?"

"What?" Both of them are suddenly tense and still. "It must be Bobby," Dean whispers.

"So much for bending me over the sofa." Kissing him quickly, "Quick shower and we'd better get downstairs before he thinks I've done you harm."

"Okay." He pulls out carefully and they get right into the shower, washing each other.

Crowley huffs as he sits at the kitchen table, then prowls around Bobby's library room, bored with waiting for them. The heavy clomping footsteps can only be, "Hello Moose! Long time no see!"        

Sam gasps and shoves Dean behind him and against the wall. "CROWLEY!"     "The one and only. Not happy to see me? I brought you steaks."

"It's  _ you _ ," says Dean, blinking at the crossroads demon. Then in dismay, "Are you here to collect already," because he probably can - he sort of fulfilled the wish.

Crowley softens and comes closer, "Dean, Dean... you're such a sweet soul." He flicks his fingers and pins Sam against the wall so he can't interfere. Reaching out and gently touching Dean's cheek, "I'm not collecting anything from you, dear boy, not now, not ever. Just... don't call anyone but me if you need something, yeah?"

Dean flinches just slightly at the touch. That stings his pride and he frowns. "Okay." It's not the most eloquent of thank yous. "You can quit doing that to Sam now."

He lessens the pressure but keeps Sam where he is, "I don't suppose we can all sit down and talk like rational people?"

Sam nods, "Yes. Just... quit  _ touching  _ him."

Crowley takes his hand away, then links it through Dean's arm at the elbow and leads him to the table, letting him take the seat furthest from him. "I come in peace, boys. Dean, you have always been my favorite, no matter which universe. And... " He looks down at his feet, shuffling them, "I am sorry I didn't keep a better watch on you in this one. My other self has made me promise to keep your Moose in line when he comes back."

"Moose? Is that what he calls you?" to Sam. "Well, it's like one half a notch better than 'Tiny'." Then the rest of it sinks in. "He's coming back." His interest in the steak vanishes. "What do you mean,  _ keep him in line _ . You can  _ do  _ that?"

"Let's start at the beginning, shall we? I call him Moose and your doppelganger is Squirrel. As in Rocky and Bullwinkle. Now that that's cleared up, yes, he's coming back and you'd better believe I will keep him in line. He nearly killed you and completely fucked everything up. You were never meant to be... his  _ plaything  _ the way you have been. Your deal with me - which is utterly renounced and broken by the way - made these events unfold. Because the other Sam and Dean are together in this certain place, it was easy to snatch that Sam and replace your Sam. I could have brought Dean through, but I think that would have been Universe-ending, so: you have Moose. Moose is a good Moose, if I say so myself, and he's been very good to you and for you." 

Sam simply scowls at Crowley the whole time and keeps a tight grip on Dean's hand.      

"That being said, in reverse, Dean has been good for  _ your  _ Sam and - oddly - likewise. Which simply blows my mind. Your Sam is cured of the demon blood and quite looking forward to groveling for your forgiveness. Make him work for it, he deserves  _ some  _ humiliation after all."

"He's  _ cured?" _  He stares at Crowley in amazement. " _ Actually _ cured?"

"Yes, he's cured. No more demon blood for him. You're safe from him now. I'll leave you a little something so you can call me if you need me. I mean that."

"Thank you," Dean finally says, and means it. This one thing is stranger somehow than all this universe-jumping time travel and whatnot. Sam is CURED. "But you know what, groveling and humiliation is bullshit. He was sick. He was addicted. If he's cured of that, it's all I wanted."

"Well... make him grovel just a  _ little _ . He knows he did wrong, he shouldn't get a completely free pass. But - " holding up his hands in surrender, "He's your Moose, you do with him as you want. Now... as for you, Sam, your Dean needs you home and that's all I'm going to say on that matter. He's hale and healthy so don't worry your pretty little oversized head about that." 

Getting up, Crowley takes a leather bracelet out of his pocket and hands it to Dean, it's just simple brown leather with a rather worn piece of metal at the midpoint. "Just think very hard and clearly of me, and I'll hear you if you need me." Raising a hand and wagging a finger at him, "No more crossroads deals, young man."

Dean takes the bracelet and nods. "Thanks. But there won't ever be anything I need as much as I needed my Sam cured." Looking at Sam. "So this is goodbye for us?"

Smiling at him, "You never know. Do let me know if you intend on hunting again, and if you don't, then I wish you a very happy and long life. Not that I don't wish you that if you hunt again. It's just statistically... well, anyway." He walks to the front door then back to them, "And you have twenty-four hours to say goodbye. After that, Sam, you'll just get pulled through another portal and back to your world.  _ Try  _ not to be having sex then. Ta!" And he just vanishes.

Dean turns to Sam, gazes at him wordlessly, then pulls him down for a kiss. He really owes that demon a favor, because he could have just sent everyone home now and been done with it. But he has twenty-four hours to come to grips with the idea that things are going to be different. For  _ everybody _ . What does he want from his Sam? Of course he wants Sam to be sorry, but not to be  _ humiliated _ . It's been so long since it all started with the demon blood that his Sam will be a little like a stranger - except not. Like this Sam, come to think of it. And that has been more than okay. "Is it weird to say I'll miss you?" Well, everything about the situation is weird.

Putting his arms around Dean, "Gonna miss you too. I... I don't know if my  Dean will even want this. He could push me away even more now after God knows what happened with your Sam. He's seen me on demon blood, and detoxing was less than pleasant." Stroking his hair, "I am going to miss you... your kisses, everything."

Dean gives him a few of those kisses before saying, "The demon said your Dean was 'good for' him. And he said you were 'good for' me. - That's true. Whatever happened - don't assume he doesn't want you. If he's even one bit like me, take it from me, he wants you."

"Yeah? You wanna go back upstairs and show me how much you want me?" They only have twenty-four hours left after all, and he wants as much skin-to-skin time with Dean as he can get, even if they don't have sex.

"Yeah, let's go." Glancing aside, "Let's take the steak with us?"

"If we're going to do that, I can make some mac and cheese too, or a salad...?"

"Ooooh," practically drooling at the mention of mac and cheese. Salad is a Sam thing, but this is a special occasion, he might eat a little salad. "Yeah, yeah. - And then upstairs."

"Got something I can boil pasta in?" He hunts for the pasta, then raids the fridge for salad makings and cheese. Soon the pasta is cooking, the cheese is shredded, the salad made. "Ok... now we drain and put it back on the stove." He adds in the cheese, bacon bits (because they were out of real bacon) and makes stovetop mac and cheese while Dean reheats the steaks.

"Oh god does that smell good. Is it done yet?" Trying to look into the pot, as though he'll be able to tell.

Sam chuckles, "Almost, got anything to carry all this with?"

Dean finds a tray and they carry everything they need back up the stairs. They've been using Bobby's room all this time. "I wonder if we could just make sure he doesn't come home for another day," Dean says faintly, looking at the wreck they've already made of it.

"He has a cell, doesn't he? We could call. And maybe we should clean up his room then move to yours."

"Okay. I'll call. Then we have to eat this food or else I'll chew one of my arms off."

"Food first, then call and clean." Cutting off a bit of steak and offering it to Dean.

This time, even though (or maybe even because) it's something he's pretty sure the other Dean wouldn't allow, he enjoys letting Sam feed him. It's a GREAT steak and the things Sam made are even better. "Mmm."

Sam makes sure Dean eats his portion and Crowley's untouched steak as well. Dean could do with some feeding up. He'd have to start working out soon, but maybe in a couple of weeks. Once their plates are practically licked clean, and their fingers as well, Sam gathers the dishes and sets them on the dresser. Scooping up Dean from where he sits on the bed and depositing in the chair he sets about stripping the bed. "Once you can move again with that fat belly there - open a window and find Lysol or Febreeze. It reeks of sex in here. Bobby will kill us."

Dean sluggishly moves to help, and they clean Bobby's room up very well, though they steal his bottle of lube and take it to the other bedroom, that Sam calls "Dean's room." Dean hasn't actually had his own room in a long time. He'll do something about that. Tomorrow.

Sam stretches out on the bed and tugs Dean down with him, just curled up and happy. Stroking his hand over his back slowly, "Okay... serious question time. With Sam returning tomorrow... is there anything you want to be prepared? I know Crowley said he was cured... but do you want... like a gun or a baseball bat or something, just in case things go weird with the whole other-dimensional shift thing?"

Dean thinks about it. And thinks about it. It feels so good to be here with Sam, so comfortable, but he is wide awake. He'd rather not waste even one of the hours they have left on sleep. "I believe that he's cured. But I would like a gun. He took mine a long time ago. I hope I can get it back, but I don't know what he did with it. " There isn't just the question of defending himself against Sam; he might well need to defend Sam against something else. If Sam is cured, then Sam doesn't have powers anymore.

"You wanna take a run into town? Or just find one of Bobby's?"

"Bobby's. Then I can just give it back later." He doesn't want to spend the remaining time on errands, either. "Gotta call him anyway," which he goes to do with one of Bobby's land lines. He hasn't had a cell phone for even longer than he hasn't had a gun. The number is written down on a piece of paper taped to the wall. He explains it to Bobby as best he can, that their Sam is coming back, that he's supposed to have been cured.

Sam meanwhile starts raiding the stash he knows Bobby has. He grins when he finds the silver 9mm with the pearl handle. He sits down to give it a good clean, "Dean, think I found yours."

"What?" Hanging up the phone, he sees what Sam has and grins, "Yes! Oh man, it's here! I didn't expect that."

"I'll clean it up for you - unless you want to do it?" It is Dean's gun after all.

Dean gives him bedroom eyes and says in a deep voice, "Sammy you're always welcome to clean my gun." Wink.

Throwing back his head and laughing, Sam has to set things down and grab him close. Wrestling him until he gets his shirt up and raspberries his belly.

"Aahhh," laughing and struggling, grabbing Sam's hair. The horseplay feels good, and the laughter does too.

Sam sweeps his legs out from under him and continues to tease with raspberries at his neck or belly as well as running his fingers up and down his ribs.

Dean laughs himself silly and finally gasps "Stop." Sam stops immediately. Dean opens his eyes and gives him a lazy grin, reassurance. It wasn't anything bad. "Still need this gun cleaned, you know." He's hard and straining against his pants.

Licking his lips, "Oh, I can clean your gun." Peeling the top of his pants down and eagerly taking his hard cock in his mouth, being sure to slurp loudly.

"Oh fuck, oh yeah," moaning without restraint. "Sweet baby, suck me, so good." Sam's hot mouth on him - it's the first thing they ever did, his Sammy, fourteen, crawled into Dean's bed and sucked him awake and he woke up in heaven. But this Sam now, his mouth is bigger, and he's a little inexperienced in a way that's like back then. It's mind bendingly hot.

Moaning around his mouthful, Dean's hands pulling lightly on his hair as he bobs his head and takes as much as he can into the back of his throat.

"So good, Sammy." Panting, he tips his head back. "God, gonna come if you keep doing that." He's not...  _ quite _ ... asking permission. But he is. That particular bit of conditioning was harsh and hard-learned and he might never completely lose it.

Gently cupping his balls and giving a light squeeze and tug, nodding his head just a little to give the okay. Taking him deeper into his mouth, a knuckle nudging at his hole to help him over the edge.

"Oh fuck oh fuck, Sammm," wailing and shuddering as he comes in Sam's delicious mouth. "So good, god baby," still babbling quietly as he subsides.

Sam takes the time to lick him clean and gently tuck him back in his pants. Bussing his lips quickly, "You just collect yourself, I'll work on the gun." Grinning like a very satisfied cat that got the canary and the cream.

Dean hooks his arm around Sam's neck and holds him there for a longer kiss - the taste of his own cum in Sam's mouth, fantastic - before letting him go, humming with satisfaction.

Grinning down at him, "I wonder if we can talk Crowley into visitation rights."

"Your Dean won't wanna share you," he says solemnly, but there's a smile playing around his lips. "You give him the slightest encouragement that the thing between you's not all in his head, and you'll find out what I mean."

"Would you share your Sam once you have him back?" Leaning over to kiss him while he slides a soft brush through the barrel of the firing chamber.

"No,"  it's not a thing that needs thinking over. "Not willingly."

Nodding, "Yeah, I probably wouldn't either." Stealing another kiss before going back to the gun. It only takes a few minutes and it's clean and loaded. "Want to fire a few rounds, make sure the sight's still good?

"Yeah." Bobby's got a firing range set up out in the junkyard. The gun is good in his hand and still fires every bit as true. It's good to have her back. Unlike the car the gun hasn't got a name, but privately Dean also thinks of it as female.

Sam grabs one from the stash, gives it a once over and then leads Dean out to the gun range, just where it always was. "Man I miss this place." He missed Bobby too.

"What do you mean?" Looking over at Sam. "Doesn't he live here anymore in your time?"

"Oh... he pissed off the wrong demon and they burned this place down."

Dean frowns. This sounds a little... vague. "But he's okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine." Dead and in heaven, but as they weren't hunting here, there was no telling if Castiel would appear to them, if the Leviathans would be released. He wouldn't taint this for Dean.

Dean wonders what he's not hearing, but he doesn't want to waste the remaining hours interrogating Sam. He's happy with his gun's action, though he himself is out of practice and not as good as he used to be. Not bad, though.

Sam easily picks off every can he's set up, hitting one twice. He gives Dean a sheepish grin. "Wanna go in?"

Dean is staring at him. "Wow." With a little grin, "Nice shooting. I think that turns me on. Hell yeah, let's go in."


	6. Chapter 6

Dean wakes up in warm comfort and confusion. He's not alone. Oh God he  _ fell asleep in Sam's bed. _ Sam hasn't caught him yet. He's got to get back to his place on the floor. But - wait, this is not - Sam's bed. This is  _ Bobby's _ bed? Memory rushes through him. This is the  _ other  _ Sam. The one who traveled. But it's hard to make his heart stop pounding after the rush of fear.

Sam shifts and reaches for him, "De??" Opening his eyes to see him sitting there panicked. "Dean?"

"It took me a minute to remember where I was. I woke up, I thought -" Shrugging one shoulder.  "Got scared. Sorry if I woke you up." He's had years of conditioning he won't be able to undo just like that.

Reaching up for him, "C'mere." Gently enfolding Dean into his arms, rubbing his back, kissing his forehead. "It's okay."

Dean shudders as he slowly, slowly relaxes into the warmth of Sam's embrace. "Thank you." He's grateful for Sam's understanding,  instead of being hurt that Dean thought he was the other Sam. His own Sam.  _ Where are you?  _ he wonders. _ Is there really hope? _

Waiting for him to fully relax again, "How about we strip the bed and go get some breakfast?"

"Yes," perking up at useful tasks to do, and breakfast. He's never felt so hungry and had it feel  _ pleasant _ , something he knows will be taken care of soon. It's a weird feeling.

Kissing him chastely, "Open the windows up, Bobby'll shoot us if the room still stinks of sex."

Dean snickers. "We shouldn't've used his bed." But he doesn't sound or feel sorry. In fact it's kind of hilarious. He opens the window, though. 

"No, but... well, the mood struck, and you're so damn beautiful, I couldn't help myself."

Dean looks at him through his eyelashes with a little smile. "I couldn't help myself either." Eyes warm on Sam as he remembers what Sam let him do last night and how good it was.

"After breakfast do you want to not help yourself again?"

The smile gets bigger. "Oh God yes." The room sorted out, "Breakfast?" in hopeful tones. "Now?"

Sam giggles and grabs him up, carrying him down the stairs after they pulled on pants at least. "What would you like? Eggs, pancakes?"

"Yes!" He'll eat anything, really, and it's hard to choose. "Whatever you like. Can I help?" He hasn't been allowed in a kitchen for ages.

"Why don't you find the bacon or sausage, I'll work on the pancakes."

Dean looks in the fridge and finds the bacon. Mmmmmm oh  _ bacon _ . He finds a pan and puts slices in, trying to stay out of Sam's way.

Sam just reaches over him like he's used to doing. Soon he has the pancakes going, slicing up bananas and strawberries to go on them. By chance he finds chocolate chips and tosses them into the batter. While Dean stands beside he puts his arm around his shoulders.

"Oh my God," Dean moans, watching these magic pancakes being assembled, "oh man, I think I'm drooling. Am I drooling?" He tends the bacon very carefully. He doesn't like burned bacon.

Sam chuckles and makes at wiping his face, "Oh yeah, huge drool."

Finally breakfast is ready and Dean gorges himself on delicious food. He tries not to eat too fast. "Mmmmmm."

Sam makes sure Dean gets the lion's share of it all, keeping his glass full of orange juice. "Want to watch a movie and neck on the couch until we either want to find our room or Bobby comes home? We don't have to, we could just watch a movie or something."

"I like the first idea." He's  a little sleepy now from all this food even though he just woke up. A movie sounds just about right and necking even better. Lazy necking. All the time in the world kind of necking.

Leaning in to kiss him tenderly, "All right, movie and necking it is. Why don't you go pick one out, I'll clean up."

Dean finds himself immobilized by choices, standing in front of Bobby's movie shelf. He doesn't know what half of these movies and TV shows even are - he's been kept away from the world for a while.

Sam clatters about, cleaning up the mess before he drifts out to him. "Find anything?" Placing his hands on his shoulders before wrapping Dean in his long arms.

"I don't know what a lot of these are. I don't know what's good." He turns in Sam's arms to nuzzle his throat. "I don't care anyway, you pick something."

Sam grabs them Die Hard and pops it in, "Come settle on the sofa with me."

Oh, Dean remembers that one. They knew it by heart since they were kids. Excellent. He snuggles gratefully with Sam as the movie starts.

Sam tries to throw his voice as the villain, purring it into Dean's ear, teasingly nipping at his throat or upper arm where the T-shirt doesn't cover his bare skin.

Dean laughs delightedly because this Sam is not any good _ at all  _ at being a villain, and it's  _ awesome _ .

Slipping his hand up under Dean's shirt, nuzzling his neck. "So precious."

"Let's ignore the movie," Dean purrs, sliding his hands up Sam's thighs. "Take this stuff off. You're gorgeous naked. You should be naked a lot."

Rubbing against him from behind, "We could just pull our pants down... I could slide right between your thighs... stroke you off."

"Oooh," and that's more diverting than the awesome action scene going on on the screen. "Yeah, God yeah, please, Sam."

Sam quickly has their pants down to their knees, his cock sliding between Dean's thighs, poking the back of his balls. "How's that big brother?"

"That's good," and it's something he hasn't done before either. He laughs breathlessly. " _ You're _ the big brother."

"Only in size, De." Reaching down and gently cupping him, stroking his hand loosely around him.

But he's older, too, years older - Dean doesn't get around to pointing this out, because when Sam touches him he groans. The gentle touch is incredibly erotic to nerves that have been through so much. He arches his back, tightening his thighs a little on Sam's big cock.

Rocking his hips forward, "So strong... " tightening his fingers around him.

Dean thrusts into Sam's hand a little, almost drunk on the freedom of being able to just have pleasure and not be afraid of doing or saying something wrong or having the wrong look in his eye. "Sam," he pants. "Want you to come all over me."

"I can do that... like this?" Kissing the shell of his ear, "Or should I sit over your legs and give you a show?"

"Show, give me a show!" They squiggle around on the couch. Dean looks up at Sam with panting admiration.

Sam manages to get his pants and shirt off, then runs his hands over his torso. "Tell me what you want me to do... should I pinch my nipples...." Doing so with both hands, pulling and punching at them.

"That's nice. Lick your fingers," because his nipples look so sexy when they're wet.

Sam does, sucking on his fingers and leaving them good and wet to return to rubbing and teasing his nipples. "Like this, lover?"

"Yeahhh," starry-eyed and wriggling. "You are so fucking beautiful." Glancing down, licking his lips, "Take your time touching your cock."

Sam glides his hands down his torso and then lightly trails his fingers over his cock. "LIke this? Just slow and teasing?"

Dean nods. He's so turned on watching Sam, he doesn't need anything else, at least not yet. "Slow as you can stand."

Licking his lips he stills, two fingers supporting himself while the other fingertips trail over his flesh. Slowly, thumb and finger touching the head, smearing the precum and just teasing. A shiver wracks his body, it's amazingly intense. "Tell me... what you... want to... do most, Dean."

"I wanna lay you down on your back and ride your cock," he says hoarsely. "God I want it in me so bad."

Sam shudders, "That... that sounds amazing... Gonna... wear a cowboy hat for me?" Still slowly teasing himself with his fingers, working down his shaft now, trailing softly over the skin at the base of his cock.

Dean looks at him with big eyes and blushes very hot. How does Sam know? "I... I could do that." But that would make Sam the horse! Or the  _ rodeo bull.  _ Mmm!

"I wanna take you upstairs and let you do that. Right now. Can we?"

He's asking DEAN'S permission? He blinks at Sam in total confusion. But Sam is actually waiting for an answer. "Yes," he says finally. "Yes we can. Let's go."

Not bothering to dress, just grabbing up his clothing, he leads the way up the stairs giving his ass a bit more shake to it for Dean. Once in the guest room he makes a show of bending over and looking for any lube. "Hah! Good ol' Bobby." Tossing it on the bed and turning to face Dean, "Got that hat, big boy?"

Dean grins and spreads his hands like 'I forgot it'. "Got that cock, Trigger?"

Unable not to, Sam gives a whinny and stamps his foot. "Need me to loosen you up?"

Dean laughs at the horse impression. But the question throws him for a loop. "Need to what...?" Finally he gets it. "Oh I... don't need that. As long as there's lube it's fine."

Brows knitting, "But... you do... like every time. Unless you're wearing a plug or something."

Dean pauses in confusion. His Sam didn't really care about that. He didn't always care about lube either. "Show me...?"

"Oh yes. Lie down on your belly." He hovers over him once he has, dropping his head down to leave gentle kisses from his neck down to his pert ass. He sees but doesn't see all the marks of abuse, just concentrates on making Dean feel good. Gently nudging his legs open he  then spreads his cheeks and licks between them.

_ Oh  _ \- he means  _ this _ . Dean likes this... A  _ lot _ . He spreads his legs wider and moans low in his throat. "Yes, please yes, more."

Giving a brief chuckle Sam does his best to get as deep as he can with his tongue. Dean was such a little sexpot!

The last time Dean felt this... Suddenly he stiffens, because the last time he felt this was  _ bad  _ and  _ hurt  _ and made him scream. Even though it feels good now, it also makes him remember, it was so recently and he doesn't want that to get in the way but it does. " _ Stop _ \- " he gasps.

Sam jerks back instantly, "Dean?" He doesn't touch him, just moves so he's beside him on the bed, in his line of sight.

"I don't wanna think about it," he moans. "I know you won't hurt me, you aren't hurting, it felt good. I'm sorry."

His hand overing near Dean's shoulder, "Can I hold you?"

"Yes. Please," he really doesn't know why even this Sam doesn't lose patience and just shake him or slap him. He's lost sight of where the line should be. Being nice shouldn't have to be a chore for Sam, he's sure of that much.

Sam quickly cuddles him close, stroking his hair, his back, "I've got you, you're safe." If he ever saw his doppelganger he'd throttle him, maybe kill him.

Dean nestles in his arms. He's ruined the mood, and they were having a nice time, too. He's sorry to have interrupted things. But he's grateful, too, that someone actually listened to him when he asked them to stop. That was something new.

Gently tipping Dean's chin up and kissing his mouth, just lightly to see if Dean wanted to continue. "Love you, De."

Sam rescues him from the spiral of thoughts and Dean is grateful. His eyes light and he smiles shyly. "Love you, too, Sammy." Kissing him back with renewed ardor, his hand in Sam's hair.

Stroking down his back, "You wanna keep going?" He had to know, he wouldn't do anything to make Dean feel pressured, "We can stay like this... face to face."

"I liked it," says Dean. "I didn't mean to remember. I wanna keep going. I wanna ride you. Please."

Big hands cupping his face, "There is nothing wrong with you remembering, it's working through it that's important. And you're doing so well."

Dean thinks he doesn't believe that, but the next thing he says is something he wouldn't have  _ dared  _ to say to his own Sam. "Talk it to death later and fuck me now."

He jerks his head back, blinks and then laughs deeply, grabbing Dean up against him. Placing firm kisses over his shoulder then his cheek and mouth, "Sir, yes sir!" There was his Dean, deep inside he was still there. Slowly trailing his hand down that wondrous body, slipping between his legs and gently teasing his hole, pressing in just a little.

Dean used to like laughing in bed. It's been a really long time for that. He kisses and nips the side of Sam's neck between saying, "Yes." and "More." quietly near his ear. Sam's hands are magic, and things are like they once were for Dean, but different, because this Sam is different. His touch is like what he remembers, but different. He doesn't know what to expect, but in a way that makes him excited and not afraid.

Sam finds the lube and soon has his fingers slicked up, teasing him as he kisses down his belly, tongue licking the definition lines of his abs.

Dean curls his toes. "Sam!" he pleads, fingers curling too in Sam's hair. His cock is leaking precum, and it's the most amazingly good torture.

Sam is gentle with him, scissoring his fingers inside him, stroking those silken insides. "You're so hot and tight. Gonna feel so good, lover."

"Please, Sam," begging, and sort of begging with a smile because he trusts he'll get what he's asking for. "Please, I'm so damn ready already!"

Chuckling softly, "Such a bossy bottom." Kissing his mouth as he pulls out his fingers, uncapping the lube again and coating himself liberally. "Ride me then, lover, show me what you got."

Dean makes a satisfied noise as he pushes Sam onto his back, then another, even more satisfied one as he aligns himself with Sam's cock and slowly sinks down. He'd really rather do it fast and hard but Sam is so worried about doing things  _ nicely _ . He closes his eyes and tips his head back, mouth opening in bliss.

Sam wraps his hands around Dean's thighs, "OH GOD!" Feeling Dean tight around him now is amazing. He tries to focus, "Yeah... come on baby, ride this big old horse."

Dean looks down at him, feeling the familiar magnificent stretch of Sam's big cock inside him, and realizes/remembers, this is not familiar to  _ Sam _ . This is  _ new _ . Even if he does this with his Dean later, this moment belongs to this Dean. "Sam," he groans, flexing his thighs and starting to ride him. "So good, Sammy..." Precum drips onto Sam's belly. He gives a Clint Eastwood squint. "Giddyup."

A groan rolling out of his mouth, "Dean... God... De... " He has to think of something horrible or he'll just go off.

Dean's breath is harsh in his throat as he rises and falls on the hard shaft, and he can see Sam is almost overwhelmed. He does and doesn't want to set Sam off - or try ordering him not to come - an exciting idea but this is the first time. So he lays himself down over Sam, his cock trapped throbbing between them, and kisses him fiercely.

Fingers tangling in Dean's short hair, holding his head gently as they kiss. Teeth gnashing accidentally in their fervor, his hips bucking up and pushing himself deep into Dean.

That faint taste of blood from Sam's bitten lip goes to something primal in Dean and he thrusts himself down hard on Sam's cock, grinding his cock against Sam's hard belly, gone wild in pleasure, then tightening deliciously in orgasm, moaning into Sam's mouth.

He can feel Dean tighten in waves around him and it's all he needs to grab him by the hips and thrust up hard into him. Screaming out his own climax, panting harshly into Dean's throat as he collapses over him.

"Mmmmm." He comes back slowly from deep, deep down. "Sam. Good." Sam's skin is under his fingertips and his lips and all against his own.

Placing his big hands on Dean's back, "Yes... very good." Once they can both breathe easily again, Sam gently rolls Dean to his side, "Stay here, lover." Placing a gentle kiss to his lips, "I'll be back in a minute." Getting up he makes for the bathroom down the hall, filling the tub up with warm scented water. He comes back for Dean and scoops him up in his arms, "How about a long soak in the tub?"

"That sounds awesome." Once they're together in the water he sighs with pleasure, but then says, "Your Dean would never let you do that in a million years, would he? Carry him."

"Only if he's too injured to protest would I get away with it. So thank you, for letting me." Kissing his cheek, "I'll treasure the memory."

Dean snorts, a little. "I hadn't thought of it like that." He'd been lifted and thrown by his own Sam countless times, but with his demon blood powers. Not by these strong arms. He kisses Sam's mouth in reply, slow and lazy.

Purring into the kiss, long fingers scritching lightly at Dean's scalp. Fumbling with his other hand to find the washcloth, dipping it in the hot water and lifting it to let it trail over the bits of Dean exposed from the water.

Dean wraps his limbs around Sam, far gone in bliss. His ass is much less sore than he's used to, so Sam was kind of right about that, but the feeling of Sam's big cock inside him remains, the very recent physical memory. His prostate is still vibrating inside him. This safe place, this good, older Sam, these things are working on Dean and waking up parts of him that had fled or hidden deep inside when he became a full-time victim. But he really chose not to be a victim when he made his deal at the crossroads.

They laze in the bath, Sam taking care to wash Dean, fondling him into hardness again. "You wanna cum again, lover?" Slowly tracing his thumb over the head, pressing in at the slit a little. He was hard himself but the edge was off so he could tease Dean as much as he could handle.

"Yeahh," he purrs, pushing into Sam's fondling hand. "Anything you want, Sammy?"

"I still owe you that show, rubbing my hands over myself, fingering myself open for you." Licking the shell of his ear, gentling biting the lobe.

Dean shudders and closes his eyes. "Yeah. You only just got started." Then Sam had asked Dean what  _ he  _ wanted.

"I suppose," undulating under him, "if you're all clean now... we could go back to the show." He's on fire now that he can touch Dean and express how much he wants and loves him.

"Oh hell yes. I wanna see you." They get out and dry each other off. He puts an arm around Sam's neck and kisses him. "But let me walk, okay?"His heart is beating fast suddenly. Sam made it clear that carrying him was something he really liked and  _ disappointing Sam _  is an adrenaline trigger. He's trying to fight it.

"Do I get to watch you walk?" Letting his hands trail down Dean's back to knead his buttocks.

"Absolutely." And for the first time Dean thinks,  _ Maybe I'm not completely broken. _

Sam gives a wolf whistle and saunters behind him, he was mentally planning one hell of a show for him. "I could spend hours just licking your body from head to toe."

Dean gives him a smile over his shoulder. "I could spend hours letting you do that."

Sam jogs a couple of steps and sweeps Dean in against him, spinning him around, cupping his face and kissing him quite thoroughly.

This does Dean good too, this sort of joyful grappling, and while the fact is Sam is stronger than he is, in much better shape even though he's older, and of course the size advantage, Dean can still hold his own. Breathlessly, "Come on. I wanna see you."

Looking down his body, "What... not enough of a view for you?" But he grins and follows like an eager puppy, happy to show off his body for his lover.

"Can't see anything while I'm kissing you, can I?" Sitting down on the bed, green eyes warm on Sam. "The view is amazing, actually."

Sam starts by flexing his body, upper arms and chest first, then works lower. Making his abs flex, his thighs then he gets his cock to jump up and down for him. He grins at him, "Too much for yah?" Teasing him, turning around and flexing in the same rotation from shoulders down to his ass cheeks. Making them clench and unclench individually. Then he bends over and spreads his cheeks, "Why don't you get the lube so I can open myself for you."

Dean blinks a few times, his mouth dry and all the blood from his brain drained into his cock. "I - Yeah," fumbling to get it. God! This Sam is REALLY built - his Sam did work out but obviously not this much. "Goddamn, you're so fucking hot I can't think." He gives Sam the lube.

Taking the tube and dropping to his hands and knees, ass toward Dean, slicking up his fingers so he can reach back and slowly breach himself. First just one finger, then two, but he's not really sure Dean can see anything. "Dean... spread me open... hold me so you can see."

Dean whimpers like a dog. He moves to do as Sam asked, spreads Sam's cheeks with his hands and involuntarily licks his lips.

"Oh God Sam," he mutters, his cock twitching with the desire to be buried in there, "you're gorgeous, I can't even tell you how beautiful that is. You look perfect. You - you feel ready? God I want you so much."

Pulling his fingers free, his hole twitching at their loss, "You don't want me to finish the show?"

"Is there more?" His voice goes up in amazement. He thought Sam was done, the way he was talking. "Oh baby. Finish the show, yeah, yeah."

Turning around to face him, "How close do you want me?" Getting to his feet, Dean's head right at cock level, his big hands holding his cock and balls. "Do you wanna watch me cum this close?"

"Yes," and Dean licks his lips meaningfully. "Front row, no poncho. Let me see it really  _ really  _ close."

Sam spreads his stance wide, one hand pulling on his balls, the other stroking himself slowly. He breathes in deeply, "I like thinking of your hands on me... touching me light and slow so I get really wound up but I can't cum. And then... when you want to you grab me hard and stroke me until I almost cum..." doing as his words describe, hips jerking him forward into his fist, "Then you just stop." He lets his hands fall away from himself, "I bet you can make me cum with just your voice."

"Maybe I can," says Dean, looking at how close Sam is to it, his big cock twitching slightly. He lets his voice go deep, "Look at you, Sammy. Look at you all hot and twitchy. Ready to give it up, baby boy? Ready to cum all over my face?" He's leaning very close so Sam can feel his breath - technically cheating, probably.

Shuddering from head to toe, "Dean... tell me more... what... what do you want to do to me after I cum?"

"I wanna throw you down," Dean says hoarsely, "put your knees next to your ears and fuck you into the mattress. With your cum still all over my face."

"AHHH!" Crying out and cumming hard, indeed covering Dean's face with spots of cum. The rush is so powerful his knees buckle and send him sprawling on the floor, cock still pulsing.

Dean is on him in a heartbeat, entirely willing to accept a floor in place of a mattress. Sam is mewling and trembling and completely willing to let Dean haul his legs up. His cock slides into Sam's hot, slick ass and feels him still twitching inside. He licks his lips and tastes Sam's cum and groans, moving his hips in a hard smooth rhythm, sinking in deep.

Grabbing his knees to keep his legs up, "Harder! Fuck me De! I wanna feel it for days!"

"Yes, yes, Jesus yes, Sammm," Dean gives him all he's got, hard,  _ harder  _ because Sam wants it  _ harder _ , and it's good,  _ so  _ good, he's growling through his teeth as he comes, pulsing balls-deep inside Sam.

Dean's cock pulses inside him, setting him off though his second orgasm is weak and he only pulses out a weak drop of cum. But it's  _ fantastic _ , feeling Dean take control, dominate, be  _ himself  _ in this. He slumps down on the carpet with a groan, he would definitely feel this for a day or two. He reaches back to awkwardly touch Dean's back in a one armed hug of sorts. "Dean... love you."

"Love you too Sammy." He's trembling, his voice is a harsh whisper. He lets Sam's legs down one at a time, without pulling out.

Able to wrap both arms around him, he does so, pressing kisses to his temple and forehead. "That... was... amazing."

"Yeah." He also kisses Sam's face, and from time to time their mouths meet.  _ "You're _ amazing."

Smiling against his mouth, "And in need of a bath again." His next words are cut off by the sound of someone in the kitchen, "Did you hear the door open?"

"What?" Both of them are suddenly tense and still. "It must be Bobby," Dean whispers.

"So much for bending me over the sofa." Kissing him quickly, "Quick shower and we'd better get downstairs before he thinks I've done you harm."

"Okay." He pulls out carefully and they get right into the shower, washing each other.

Crowley huffs as he sits at the kitchen table, then prowls around Bobby's library room, bored with waiting for them. The heavy clomping footsteps can only be, "Hello Moose! Long time no see!"        

Sam gasps and shoves Dean behind him and against the wall. "CROWLEY!"     "The one and only. Not happy to see me? I brought you steaks."

"It's  _ you _ ," says Dean, blinking at the crossroads demon. Then in dismay, "Are you here to collect already," because he probably can - he sort of fulfilled the wish.

Crowley softens and comes closer, "Dean, Dean... you're such a sweet soul." He flicks his fingers and pins Sam against the wall so he can't interfere. Reaching out and gently touching Dean's cheek, "I'm not collecting anything from you, dear boy, not now, not ever. Just... don't call anyone but me if you need something, yeah?"

Dean flinches just slightly at the touch. That stings his pride and he frowns. "Okay." It's not the most eloquent of thank yous. "You can quit doing that to Sam now."

He lessens the pressure but keeps Sam where he is, "I don't suppose we can all sit down and talk like rational people?"

Sam nods, "Yes. Just... quit  _ touching  _ him."

Crowley takes his hand away, then links it through Dean's arm at the elbow and leads him to the table, letting him take the seat furthest from him. "I come in peace, boys. Dean, you have always been my favorite, no matter which universe. And... " He looks down at his feet, shuffling them, "I am sorry I didn't keep a better watch on you in this one. My other self has made me promise to keep your Moose in line when he comes back."

"Moose? Is that what he calls you?" to Sam. "Well, it's like one half a notch better than 'Tiny'." Then the rest of it sinks in. "He's coming back." His interest in the steak vanishes. "What do you mean,  _ keep him in line _ . You can  _ do  _ that?"

"Let's start at the beginning, shall we? I call him Moose and your doppelganger is Squirrel. As in Rocky and Bullwinkle. Now that that's cleared up, yes, he's coming back and you'd better believe I will keep him in line. He nearly killed you and completely fucked everything up. You were never meant to be... his  _ plaything  _ the way you have been. Your deal with me - which is utterly renounced and broken by the way - made these events unfold. Because the other Sam and Dean are together in this certain place, it was easy to snatch that Sam and replace your Sam. I could have brought Dean through, but I think that would have been Universe-ending, so: you have Moose. Moose is a good Moose, if I say so myself, and he's been very good to you and for you." 

Sam simply scowls at Crowley the whole time and keeps a tight grip on Dean's hand.      

"That being said, in reverse, Dean has been good for  _ your  _ Sam and - oddly - likewise. Which simply blows my mind. Your Sam is cured of the demon blood and quite looking forward to groveling for your forgiveness. Make him work for it, he deserves  _ some  _ humiliation after all."

"He's  _ cured?" _  He stares at Crowley in amazement. " _ Actually _ cured?"

"Yes, he's cured. No more demon blood for him. You're safe from him now. I'll leave you a little something so you can call me if you need me. I mean that."

"Thank you," Dean finally says, and means it. This one thing is stranger somehow than all this universe-jumping time travel and whatnot. Sam is CURED. "But you know what, groveling and humiliation is bullshit. He was sick. He was addicted. If he's cured of that, it's all I wanted."

"Well... make him grovel just a  _ little _ . He knows he did wrong, he shouldn't get a completely free pass. But - " holding up his hands in surrender, "He's your Moose, you do with him as you want. Now... as for you, Sam, your Dean needs you home and that's all I'm going to say on that matter. He's hale and healthy so don't worry your pretty little oversized head about that." 

Getting up, Crowley takes a leather bracelet out of his pocket and hands it to Dean, it's just simple brown leather with a rather worn piece of metal at the midpoint. "Just think very hard and clearly of me, and I'll hear you if you need me." Raising a hand and wagging a finger at him, "No more crossroads deals, young man."

Dean takes the bracelet and nods. "Thanks. But there won't ever be anything I need as much as I needed my Sam cured." Looking at Sam. "So this is goodbye for us?"

Smiling at him, "You never know. Do let me know if you intend on hunting again, and if you don't, then I wish you a very happy and long life. Not that I don't wish you that if you hunt again. It's just statistically... well, anyway." He walks to the front door then back to them, "And you have twenty-four hours to say goodbye. After that, Sam, you'll just get pulled through another portal and back to your world.  _ Try  _ not to be having sex then. Ta!" And he just vanishes.

Dean turns to Sam, gazes at him wordlessly, then pulls him down for a kiss. He really owes that demon a favor, because he could have just sent everyone home now and been done with it. But he has twenty-four hours to come to grips with the idea that things are going to be different. For  _ everybody _ . What does he want from his Sam? Of course he wants Sam to be sorry, but not to be  _ humiliated _ . It's been so long since it all started with the demon blood that his Sam will be a little like a stranger - except not. Like this Sam, come to think of it. And that has been more than okay. "Is it weird to say I'll miss you?" Well, everything about the situation is weird.

Putting his arms around Dean, "Gonna miss you too. I... I don't know if my  Dean will even want this. He could push me away even more now after God knows what happened with your Sam. He's seen me on demon blood, and detoxing was less than pleasant." Stroking his hair, "I am going to miss you... your kisses, everything."

Dean gives him a few of those kisses before saying, "The demon said your Dean was 'good for' him. And he said you were 'good for' me. - That's true. Whatever happened - don't assume he doesn't want you. If he's even one bit like me, take it from me, he wants you."

"Yeah? You wanna go back upstairs and show me how much you want me?" They only have twenty-four hours left after all, and he wants as much skin-to-skin time with Dean as he can get, even if they don't have sex.

"Yeah, let's go." Glancing aside, "Let's take the steak with us?"

"If we're going to do that, I can make some mac and cheese too, or a salad...?"

"Ooooh," practically drooling at the mention of mac and cheese. Salad is a Sam thing, but this is a special occasion, he might eat a little salad. "Yeah, yeah. - And then upstairs."

"Got something I can boil pasta in?" He hunts for the pasta, then raids the fridge for salad makings and cheese. Soon the pasta is cooking, the cheese is shredded, the salad made. "Ok... now we drain and put it back on the stove." He adds in the cheese, bacon bits (because they were out of real bacon) and makes stovetop mac and cheese while Dean reheats the steaks.

"Oh god does that smell good. Is it done yet?" Trying to look into the pot, as though he'll be able to tell.

Sam chuckles, "Almost, got anything to carry all this with?"

Dean finds a tray and they carry everything they need back up the stairs. They've been using Bobby's room all this time. "I wonder if we could just make sure he doesn't come home for another day," Dean says faintly, looking at the wreck they've already made of it.

"He has a cell, doesn't he? We could call. And maybe we should clean up his room then move to yours."

"Okay. I'll call. Then we have to eat this food or else I'll chew one of my arms off."

"Food first, then call and clean." Cutting off a bit of steak and offering it to Dean.

This time, even though (or maybe even because) it's something he's pretty sure the other Dean wouldn't allow, he enjoys letting Sam feed him. It's a GREAT steak and the things Sam made are even better. "Mmm."

Sam makes sure Dean eats his portion and Crowley's untouched steak as well. Dean could do with some feeding up. He'd have to start working out soon, but maybe in a couple of weeks. Once their plates are practically licked clean, and their fingers as well, Sam gathers the dishes and sets them on the dresser. Scooping up Dean from where he sits on the bed and depositing in the chair he sets about stripping the bed. "Once you can move again with that fat belly there - open a window and find Lysol or Febreeze. It reeks of sex in here. Bobby will kill us."

Dean sluggishly moves to help, and they clean Bobby's room up very well, though they steal his bottle of lube and take it to the other bedroom, that Sam calls "Dean's room." Dean hasn't actually had his own room in a long time. He'll do something about that. Tomorrow.

Sam stretches out on the bed and tugs Dean down with him, just curled up and happy. Stroking his hand over his back slowly, "Okay... serious question time. With Sam returning tomorrow... is there anything you want to be prepared? I know Crowley said he was cured... but do you want... like a gun or a baseball bat or something, just in case things go weird with the whole other-dimensional shift thing?"

Dean thinks about it. And thinks about it. It feels so good to be here with Sam, so comfortable, but he is wide awake. He'd rather not waste even one of the hours they have left on sleep. "I believe that he's cured. But I would like a gun. He took mine a long time ago. I hope I can get it back, but I don't know what he did with it. " There isn't just the question of defending himself against Sam; he might well need to defend Sam against something else. If Sam is cured, then Sam doesn't have powers anymore.

"You wanna take a run into town? Or just find one of Bobby's?"

"Bobby's. Then I can just give it back later." He doesn't want to spend the remaining time on errands, either. "Gotta call him anyway," which he goes to do with one of Bobby's land lines. He hasn't had a cell phone for even longer than he hasn't had a gun. The number is written down on a piece of paper taped to the wall. He explains it to Bobby as best he can, that their Sam is coming back, that he's supposed to have been cured.

Sam meanwhile starts raiding the stash he knows Bobby has. He grins when he finds the silver 9mm with the pearl handle. He sits down to give it a good clean, "Dean, think I found yours."

"What?" Hanging up the phone, he sees what Sam has and grins, "Yes! Oh man, it's here! I didn't expect that."

"I'll clean it up for you - unless you want to do it?" It is Dean's gun after all.

Dean gives him bedroom eyes and says in a deep voice, "Sammy you're always welcome to clean my gun." Wink.

Throwing back his head and laughing, Sam has to set things down and grab him close. Wrestling him until he gets his shirt up and raspberries his belly.

"Aahhh," laughing and struggling, grabbing Sam's hair. The horseplay feels good, and the laughter does too.

Sam sweeps his legs out from under him and continues to tease with raspberries at his neck or belly as well as running his fingers up and down his ribs.

Dean laughs himself silly and finally gasps "Stop." Sam stops immediately. Dean opens his eyes and gives him a lazy grin, reassurance. It wasn't anything bad. "Still need this gun cleaned, you know." He's hard and straining against his pants.

Licking his lips, "Oh, I can clean your gun." Peeling the top of his pants down and eagerly taking his hard cock in his mouth, being sure to slurp loudly.

"Oh fuck, oh yeah," moaning without restraint. "Sweet baby, suck me, so good." Sam's hot mouth on him - it's the first thing they ever did, his Sammy, fourteen, crawled into Dean's bed and sucked him awake and he woke up in heaven. But this Sam now, his mouth is bigger, and he's a little inexperienced in a way that's like back then. It's mind bendingly hot.

Moaning around his mouthful, Dean's hands pulling lightly on his hair as he bobs his head and takes as much as he can into the back of his throat.

"So good, Sammy." Panting, he tips his head back. "God, gonna come if you keep doing that." He's not...  _ quite _ ... asking permission. But he is. That particular bit of conditioning was harsh and hard-learned and he might never completely lose it.

Gently cupping his balls and giving a light squeeze and tug, nodding his head just a little to give the okay. Taking him deeper into his mouth, a knuckle nudging at his hole to help him over the edge.

"Oh fuck oh fuck, Sammm," wailing and shuddering as he comes in Sam's delicious mouth. "So good, god baby," still babbling quietly as he subsides.

Sam takes the time to lick him clean and gently tuck him back in his pants. Bussing his lips quickly, "You just collect yourself, I'll work on the gun." Grinning like a very satisfied cat that got the canary and the cream.

Dean hooks his arm around Sam's neck and holds him there for a longer kiss - the taste of his own cum in Sam's mouth, fantastic - before letting him go, humming with satisfaction.

Grinning down at him, "I wonder if we can talk Crowley into visitation rights."

"Your Dean won't wanna share you," he says solemnly, but there's a smile playing around his lips. "You give him the slightest encouragement that the thing between you's not all in his head, and you'll find out what I mean."

"Would you share your Sam once you have him back?" Leaning over to kiss him while he slides a soft brush through the barrel of the firing chamber.

"No,"  it's not a thing that needs thinking over. "Not willingly."

Nodding, "Yeah, I probably wouldn't either." Stealing another kiss before going back to the gun. It only takes a few minutes and it's clean and loaded. "Want to fire a few rounds, make sure the sight's still good?

"Yeah." Bobby's got a firing range set up out in the junkyard. The gun is good in his hand and still fires every bit as true. It's good to have her back. Unlike the car the gun hasn't got a name, but privately Dean also thinks of it as female.

Sam grabs one from the stash, gives it a once over and then leads Dean out to the gun range, just where it always was. "Man I miss this place." He missed Bobby too.

"What do you mean?" Looking over at Sam. "Doesn't he live here anymore in your time?"

"Oh... he pissed off the wrong demon and they burned this place down."

Dean frowns. This sounds a little... vague. "But he's okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine." Dead and in heaven, but as they weren't hunting here, there was no telling if Castiel would appear to them, if the Leviathans would be released. He wouldn't taint this for Dean.

Dean wonders what he's not hearing, but he doesn't want to waste the remaining hours interrogating Sam. He's happy with his gun's action, though he himself is out of practice and not as good as he used to be. Not bad, though.

Sam easily picks off every can he's set up, hitting one twice. He gives Dean a sheepish grin. "Wanna go in?"

Dean is staring at him. "Wow." With a little grin, "Nice shooting. I think that turns me on. Hell yeah, let's go in."


	7. Chapter 7

Crowley arrives in the bunker and looks around, smacks his face into his palm again knowing where they were. He walks down the hallway and pauses before Dean's door. Coughing, "Hey! Chop chop! Time to move Heaven and Earth here, I don't have all day!"

They're asleep, actually, though naked and stuck together, that's true. Dean blinks awake and finds his hand in Sam's hair. The other Sam. It's time to say goodbye, then. He has to get himself together to act normal for his own Sam.

Crowley peers around the doorjamb, "Squirrel?" His face is soft in sympathy, "You've done good. I'll be in the kitchen."      

Sam snuffles and moves in closer to Dean, "Mmm... 'sup?"

Dean isn't sure what he thinks of Crowley having become so Nice, but he'll  _ never  _ love being called 'Squirrel'. He looks down at Sam and though he really does want his Sam back, he will miss this one. They shared something kind of awful and special that nobody else could really understand - they both went bad, and came back. And of course he can't do THIS with his own Sam. That's another universe, where Sam, for good or ill, wanted that from the start. "Time to get up," he says softly. "Maybe get a quick shower. Crowley's waiting."

Groaning, "I need to go back... but part of me doesn't want to. You've been... I can't find words to say how great you've been - about everything."

Dean hauls him in close for a kiss. "Think we needed each other," he says, feeling so awkward, but there's no time to let this go. "But they need us too. You're gonna be okay."

Kissing him again, "Yeah. So... shower." Getting up and offering Dean his hand to help him up. They stay close, constantly touching into the shower, through the shower and even getting dressed afterward. Sam just pulls on some of Sam's clothing, things Dean thinks he won't miss or he can replace.

Finally, clean and dressed, they kiss one more time, take a deep breath, and go to find Crowley waiting in the kitchen. He's nervous now, to see his own Sam again.

Crowley is reading one of the many books in the bunker, he sets it down and stands, "All right boys, we need to go to the room Sam came into." Sam looks at Dean, "Oh... it had some really old-looking computer thing in it."

Dean leads them to the 'war room', where this Sam turned up naked. He's glad they don't have to go to where his Sam disappeared from, because that, he doesn't know.

Crowley draws some sigils on the wall and a portal opens, "Okay, Moose Two, you just step through when you're ready. But don't take all day. It should put you in Bobby's scrapyard." He steps out of the room to give them a moment.

Dean puts his hand on Sam's shoulder and looks him in the eye. "You okay? It's gonna be okay, Sammy."

Sam hugs him tightly, nearly popping his spine in his intensity. "I won't ever forget."

Dean hugs him close, a hug as tight as a really firm handshake, only full-body. He can feel Sam's heart pounding fast. Near Sam's ear he says softly, "He made a deal, not to get free of you but to get you back. Don't forget that either."

Nodding even as tears start to spring from his eyes, "I won't." Letting go enough to cup Dean's face, "Always wanted to love you, ask him." Leaning in and kissing him softly before letting go and looking at the portal.

Dean feels a lump in his throat as he watches Sam go to the portal. There's a little deja vu to when Sam was first possessed by Lucifer, how he acted like he was going to enter the Pit, then stopped and laughed at Dean. But this isn't even the same Sam, and he only pauses briefly before squaring his big shoulders and stepping through.

It's only a scant few moments before an older Sam steps through, also freshly showered, hair still damp. "Dean?!?"

"Sam?" Looking at his eyes, " _ My _ Sam?" He can't keep a big goofy smile off his face, "Dude I am glad to see  _ you _ ."

He'd swear later that he just floated over the space to Dean, but he is very aware of Dean having to gasp that he can't breathe and pound his shoulder to get him to release him from the tight hold he has on him. "Dean." Cupping his face and stroking his hair and cheek, "You're okay? Really okay?"

Dean nods, mutely, then says, "Look," in a voice rough with suppressed emotion. He pulls his sleeve up to show his arm, unmarked.

Sam gapes, grabbing Dean's arm and stroking his fingers over the smooth skin. "It's gone... " looking him in the eye, "forever?"

He nods again, several times, his mouth going dry and a shiver going down his spine at Sam's touch on his skin. "Think so," he manages to say.

Crowley steps back around the corner of the doorjamb and looks them over before stepping closer. Keeping his voice low and soft, "Boys... it's over. No more Mark. I'll keep an eye on the other Winchesters."

Dean turns toward him and despite his continuing urge to smart off to Crowley, thanking him is only fair. "Guess we have you to thank. And the other Dean. If you're really not gonna make him pay then that's - really decent of you." He clears his throat. "Thanks, Crowley."

"I've had one of you in Hell - and as a Demon Knight, no, I'll pass on a re-do." Turning to leave with a wave of his hand, "Call me in a week when you come up for air, we'll do dinner!" Stepping around the doorjamb and vanishing.           Sam blinks, "He is... weird."

"He's gone - completely white hat somehow. I don't even understand it, but..." Remembering, "Are you okay? You were in another world! You were with other me?"

Sam nods, "Yeah... um... can we go crash in a bed? I just..." He shuffles his feet nervously, "I wanna like... full body hug you and I can't do it standing up."

Dean blinks a few times, just because he wasn't expecting that at all. But he wants it like crazy. Is he testing Dean...? No, why would he? "Yeah," he says, blinking. "Yeah, uh, your room?" Remembering, "Uh, I moved the TV into the library. Temporarily. I'll put it back."

Sam trembles and offers his hand to Dean, nearly coming apart right there when he feels that strong hand take his. "Sounds like a good place for it."

Dean feels him trembling and pulls Sam along with him, in a hurry to get Sam into his arms. There's barely time to thumb the light switch on the wall as they go in and fall down on Sam's bed, going into each other's arms as though they've done that since they were kids. Dean has had practice with other Sam. Possibly Sam has done the same with other Dean.

Wrapping his arms around Dean and linking their legs together, he just holds on for long moments, breathing Dean in and feeling his heart beat. Finally, "I love you." It's not what he meant to say, he meant to tell Dean about the other Dean, his abuse, how he'd made love to him, but it all boils down to  _ I love you. _

Dean's arms tighten around Sam. "Love you too." Sam's head is tucked against his shoulder. He kisses Sam's hair. They would never have done this before. But it's suddenly  _ natural _ .

Now he can say it, "I made love to him. I want to... with you." Pulling back enough to look him in the eyes, "Is that… something you'd want?"

Dean feels himself going red, but he doesn't break eye contact. "Yeah," his mouth is dry again and he licks his lips. "I, uh. I did too. With the other you." And some of it wasn't making love, either, but things had been complicated.

Gnawing his bottom lip, "You're... you're okay with me... and him? I'm okay with you and him.. I mean it's still us... but not."

"I bet you helped him," says Dean. "I bet he was messed up pretty bad. You were the only one who  _ could  _ help him." Also looking guilty, "Some of what I did was pretty messed up. I... turned again."

His hand cups the back of Dean's head, fingers lightly scritching at his scalp. " _ He _ was pretty messed up. The things I... HE did... God Dean... " Pressing his forehead to Dean's, "He was more like you when I left, but... he has a long way to go to heal." Breathing in the scent of him, Dean was still Dean, but somehow different. "Do you... wanna talk about what happened?"

"Later maybe. Not right now." Not when Sam's mouth is inches from his own. "You still want...? Cause - I do."

Undulating against him so their hips rock together, he's hard, has been since taking Dean's hand. "Yes. Oh God Dean, yes."

Dean gasps a little and then he's kissing Sam, his Sam, and it's  _ completely different _ from kissing that other Sam. That had been good. This is  _ magic _ . They're both hard, rocking together in Sam's bed.  _ His  _ Sam's bed.

There's no hesitation in their kiss, it's deep and and wonderful. His hand pulls at the hem of Dean's T-shirt, slipping under it to stroke the skin of his back. There are scars, puckered flesh from knife and bullet wound, some from claws and debris they've encountered; but not the wounds from lash marks and God knew what else that his doppelganger had done.

"Sam," Dean shivers, hands sliding down to pull Sam's jeans open and slide his fingers in in search of Sam's cock. Not that it's hard to find. All Sams are huge.

Well Dean certainly was quick about things! Pulling his hips back, "Why don't we just get undressed?"

Well, Sam was the one who started dry humping. Dean, embarrassed, wonders if he's learned bad habits from bad Sam. And his Sam wanted to -  _ make love.  _ Dean doesn't know if he even knows how to do that. "Yeah, okay," fumbling with his shirt buttons.

Sam reaches out and stops him, "Let me?"

Dean's eyes fly to Sam's and he swallows, nodding. He thought this might be easier because of the stuff he's already done. But it really isn't that much. Not yet, not before they're heated up and in the midst of it. He's glad to let Sam do this. He'll understand better what Sam expects.

Sam's long nimble fingers make short work of the buttons, just letting the shirt part naturally, running his hand down the center of Dean's chest. His hand slides up Dean's neck, cupping his jaw and rubbing his thumb over that full lower lip. "You're so beautiful."

Dean shrugs a little in negation. Sam is the beautiful one. But he's caught, fascinated by the way Sam looks at him now, and the incredible gentle deftness of his big hands. He kisses Sam's thumb and feels himself blushing as he does it.

That little kiss goes right to his groin and he hunches forward with a groan. "Oh God... De... I jusss-t…  _ uhngg _ ..."

"What?" Dean panics for a moment, imagining all sorts of terrible things, that Crowley lied to him, that he really still is a demon, all  _ kinds  _ of awful. But no. "Sam? What's the - did you - did you  _ come?" _ Incredulous.

Blushing darkly he lifts his eyes to Dean's and nods with a shy little smile. "Yeah. Um... 's okay... I've got a few in me."

"Oh, baby," and he cups Sam's face in his hands and kisses him. "Okay, let's get you out of your stuff first."

Shaking his head, "Oh no, this is all about you." Shifting on his knees so he can lean in better, nuzzling at his ear then down his neck, "Other than him . . have you been with a man before?"

"No." He shivers at the sensation of Sam's lips on his neck. "You?"

Hands slowly moving Dean's shirt to the edge of his shoulders, kissing his way along the collarbone to one shoulder. Easing the shirt down as he licks and kisses, wanting to ease all the pain that's ever been there. The wounds, the dislocations, the sore muscles from training. "No, just in my dreams of you."

"Oh God Sam." One hand is in Sam's hair, like it belongs there. "I wanted you almost my whole life, I just - " Thought it was wrong. Thought Sam would think it was wrong.

Turning his head to kiss him, "Wasted a lot of time, but... if what happened to the other you were to be what happened to us... I'd never want it."

Dean looks him in the eye. "No. You kicked the blood habit. You'd never have done that. I'd never have let you."

"And if I was just fourteen and crawled into your bed like he did?" Returning his attention to getting Dean's shirt off one arm, then the other, tossing it away. Stroking his hands over Dean's shoulders and arms, just learning his strong body, following his touches with kisses.

Dean hesitates to answer. He talked a big game to the other Sam about it being  _ just plain wrong _ . But. "I don't know," he admits. "I was eighteen then. Not all that big on self-control. I don't know." He feels guilty just thinking about it.  _ Sam at fourteen.  _ He's beautiful now; he was beautiful then. And not big yet.

Sam eases him back to the bed, stripping off his own T-shirt and throwing it away, he slips from the bed and takes off pants and underwear in one quick move. "Maybe it would have been different for us. But it was then and I have you now and I'm not wasting another second on regret and what-ifs."

Dean nods mutely in total agreement, his eyes big and irresistibly drawn to Sam's magnificent naked body. He's averted his eyes many times in the past but he can LOOK now.

Climbing back on the bed and kneeling over him, "So - De - you a top or a bottom?" Dropping his shoulders to lick upward from navel to nipple, stopping to flicks his tongue over the infamous perky nipples.

" _ Nngh _ ," says Dean, because his nipples are crazy sensitive. "Bottom -  _ this  _ time." He gives Sam a lazy smile. He knows now both sides are good. And with his own Sam, it's what he wants first.

Looking up with a smile, "I'm gonna make you scream."

"You better," says Dean, though he doesn't doubt it for an instant. He wriggles meaningfully under Sam.

Sam nibbles his way up to take his mouth again, kissing slowly, taking the time to nibble and suck on the plump lower lip. Breaking away to return to his perch on hands and knees, "I suppose," shifting back down the bed, "if I'm going to make you scream, I should get you out of these." Fingers stroking over the skin just above the waistline of his jeans.

"Please!" almost whining. "My dick is about to Hulk its way outta there. Have a heart, Sammy." It is just plain fun to use his eyes - and his eyelashes - all flirty on Sam.

Sam drops his head down and grabs a firm hold of one side of Dean's jeans and jerks his head popping open the tab, then he uses his tongue to flick up the zipper pull and get it between his teeth, dragging it down slowly.

"Whoaa," breathes Dean, truly impressed, and also sighing in relief at the reduction of pressure on his throbbing cock, trapped too long in all that fabric. There's still his boxer-briefs, and they're showing strain, and also kind of wet.

Parting the jeans with his fingers, breathing over the very damp patch on the boxer-briefs and smirking at Dean's reaction. Moving to the side he works on yanking off the denim and tossing it aside. Now Dean was just in his underwear and Sam was going to take his time. Because THIS Dean - HIS Dean had no issues.

"Awww," Dean groans, "I'm still overdressed," but he's enjoying the particular light in Sam's eye that he hasn't seen before. He's starting to squirm now, so close to action but so far. Sam's tormenting him, isn't he.

Sam sits on his legs between Dean's, long fingers stroking up his legs, up the insides of his thighs, lightly stroking just under the hem of boxer-briefs that run across his thighs. "I think... I'd like to tie you down and blindfold you, tease you for hours."

Dean whimpers a little, panting. "You've already been teasing me for hours," he complains, though of course Sam hasn't even been home that long. But the thought of Sam tying him down is hot. "You can do anything you want with me," he says hoarsely.

Sam pauses and looks up at him, knowing exactly how things went wrong There. Instead he offers in a sexy deep growl, "Oh I plan to." Peeling the material down below Dean's cock, then moving between his legs to flip him over and yank the underwear off. "Give me a pillow." Using it to prop up Dean's hips, he kneels between his legs again, leaning over him and gripping his shoulders, kneading the tight muscles.

Dean makes several surprised sounds, then groans in abject delight at the touch of Sam's hands on his shoulders. His cock pushes against the pillow but it's too soft for good friction. "Ohhh," his shoulders feel so good.

Taking his time to knead and rub down Dean's back, then he grabs his ass and does the same thing, eventually stroking his thumbs down between them.

"Oh God Sammmm," Dean moans, no longer complaining but letting Sam play him like an instrument. "Yeahh," spreading his legs even further, helpfully.

Shifting and laying down between his legs, spreading those firm cheeks and giving a long lick of his tongue between them.

"OH JESUS," toes curling, "Fuck yeah Sam oh my God yeahhhh," his thighs shaking, and it's a good thing he doesn't have more friction on his cock as a matter of fact. "Do it again," he begs.

Sam gets a good grip on those firm cheeks and puts all his energy into it, licking from the back of his balls over his hole and up toward the small of his back. Next he flicks little touches around the tight ring, opening and relaxing it slowly so he can thrust inside.

Dean is incoherent with pleasure within minutes, wailing and begging and occasionally trying to muffle the sounds against the bed or his hands but he can't remember to for more than a few licks of Sam's magic tongue. By the time Sam's tongue is fucking him he's clawing at the bed and humping the poor defenseless pillow. "Saaam!"

Taking pity on him, Sam flips him over and wraps Dean's legs around his hips, hand reaching out and loosely fisting his cock. "So fucking gorgeous."

Dean looks up at him with dreamy eyes, pupils dilated and his lids half down, lashes  half veiling the rest. "Sam," in a low, throaty whisper. There's a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Love you."

"Think you got more than one in you?" He needs to find the lube but if Dean can take two.. he'd rather take the edge off and wind him up all over again.

Dean nods. "Yeah. For you? Hell yeah." Pushing into Sam's hand. "Please, baby." He knows Sam will probably give him hell for using the same endearment as he calls the car. But he can't help it, it's what comes out of his mouth.

Tightening his hand and stroking with purpose, "Come on lover, show me what you got."

Never mind the massive amounts of teasing and buildup, there is something so erotic about the feel of Sam's big hand working his cock that it makes Dean howl as he arches back, thrusting hard into Sam's stroking, and finally spurting cum all over Sam's fingers and his own belly.

Milking him until Dean utters a whimper that was clearly that he'd had enough, gently letting go of him. Bringing his hand to his mouth, tongue flashing out to lick the substance from his fingers. "God, that was so hot."

"Oh my God Sammm." Dean looks wrecked, and is twitching a little, but his eyes don't shut all the way because he's watching Sam licking his cum off his fingers. "You're fucking amazing."

"And we've only started." Untangling them so he can reach over and dig out the lube in his bedside drawer. Laying down beside him, fingers slowly stroking up and down the thin line of hair starting above his navel and going south. "Do you want me to use a condom?"

Dean blinks, then shakes his head. Maybe technically... But the others they've both been with are themselves a couple. If anybody caught anything then they both did. "Only if you want," because maybe Sam feels differently about it.

Shaking his head, "Hell no, but thought I'd ask." He slicks his fingers, "Come lay over me." Stretching out on his back and opening his arms to Dean.

Dean looks him over with a covetous grin. "You're gorgeous." And he is significantly more built than the other Sam had been, who had not had to work so hard at things with his powers to rely on. "Miiine." Climbing astride and laying down over him, wriggling comfortably.

Cupping the back of Dean's head once he settles, "Love you, De. Can't even tell you how much."

"I know how much," Dean says, "that's how much I love you. Easy." Wink. Then a kiss.

Sam's wet fingers find their way between Dean's cheeks, easing one in slowly while he contents himself with sucking on Dean's tongue.

Dean has already learned how much he likes this, and while it's sort of too bad not to have had that first time with his own Sam... it saves them a lot of time and trouble now. Neither of them has to be shy. They both had practice, even if that wasn't what they realized they were doing. (He conveniently ignores that that's what the other Sam had said to him about it.) He can spread his legs and moan for more and he does, even while Sam's kissing him.

Giving Dean a nudge to get him to move up a bit though now his neck is stretched to kiss him, it's better to be able to get three fingers inside him.  And he definitely likes the way Dean moans and writhes against him while he's loosening his ass.

Sam's big fingers moving in him are making Dean hard again, and he nips at Sam's lower lip, whining, "C'mon, Sam, that's enough, I'm ready, please fuck me."

Gently easing his fingers free and rolling them so Dean is on his back, his  longer body between his legs. Grabbing the lube he slicks himself up and guides himself to that tight hot little entrance. "Ready, lover?"

"Yeah Sammy," he breathes, one arm around Sam's neck, the other around his back, fingertips enjoying Sam's incredible musculature. He is both gentler and stronger, in and of himself, than the other one. He's the REAL Sam. "So ready. Need you."

"Need you too." Slowly pushing his way into Dean, feeling the slight give of him around him, then the tightness and heat that envelops him. "Oh God.. De... "

Dean's voice is a low, breathy moan in Sam's ear with a tiny gasp as the head of Sam's cock is fully inside, then a long low "Sammmmm" as he slides on in. "God yeahhhhh." Clutching at Sam, as though afraid he'll stop.

Taking his time to slide in and out as slow as he can take it, Dean is like a vise around him. Turning his head to nuzzle his neck, kissing up his jaw to claim his mouth. It's all so perfect now, still their first time, all of Dean's responses are his alone.

Dean wraps his legs around Sam's back, not tightly, or to urge him on faster - the slow rhythm is kind of amazing, Dean's usually too impatient but it's undeniably intense. Just to hold Sam with all available limbs, is all. Sam is perfect, on top of him, claiming him. "Wanted this from you," he murmurs against Sam's lips, "for a long time now."

Pressing soft kisses to his mouth, "Too wrapped up in my head to notice... should have. Could have been amazing. Is Amazing."

"Yeahhh." Too much pleasure now to explain, Dean wouldn't have been able to do anything about it if the whole thing hadn't happened. He would never have let himself admit any of it. The other Dean made one wish that saved everybody. Now he urges Sam to go faster, "More, Sammy, come on," legs tightening around him.

Ignoring his demands, sucking lightly at his neck, "Yeah? You want more, lover? Want it hard and deep?" He's trembling with the effort of going slow, but he wants to keep Dean on edge, draw it out.

"You said you'd make me scream," Dean reminds him, and thrusts up, trying to get more.

Sucking on his bottom lip a moment and shifting his angle to make sure he finds Dean's prostate, smirking when he gets a breathy gasp once he does. "Oh yeah... guess I did. Better hold on then, train's leaving the station." Shifting enough to brace himself to start pounding into Dean, nailing that little nub inside on nearly every thrust.

The handful of train-related jokes that spring to Dean's mind are scattered like cards and never retrieved. He does scream, but there's no question that it's a  _ good  _ scream. His blissed-out face, greedy clutching fingers, flexing toes all tell that, and also the fact that in the midst of it he comes, nobody touching his cock at all. Just from Sam fucking him. And Sam doesn't stop because he isn't done and it still feels so  _ good _ , hard and deep.

Such a beautiful sight, Dean's blissed-out countenance, letting go of his control and delivering several more deep thrusts before joining him in post-orgasmic bliss. It takes him a few minutes to realize he's slumped over Dean, all of his weight on him. Pushing up on his elbows, "Sorry..." reaching between them to help ease himself out, wincing as cold air touches superheated flesh.

Dean is half conscious but makes a soft complaint at Sam pulling out. "I like having you on top of me," he says, his voice sounding a little drunk.

Sam settles then, "Yeah? I'm not soft, you want me back inside?"

He wakes up more at that. "Jesus, yes. That's an option? Yes. Fuuck, look at you. You're not kidding, you're like a porn star." ...Hm. "I'm glad you're  _ not  _ a porn star." Probably there is a universe where Sam IS one.

Carefully easing himself back in, it's nearly too much sensation but he'd do anything for Dean. Once he's in and resettled, his body quiets down, "We could do that... pretend I'm a porn star." Dropping his head to nuzzle Dean's shoulder and neck. "I could be the pizza delivery guy."

Dean finds this completely hilarious, possibly because his brains have been fucked out and replaced by a soup of endorphins, and he clings to Sam and giggles till he's helpless. And Sam is inside him - just inside him, just  _ there _ , and it's even more perfect than the amazing sex they just had. The word for what he's feeling doesn't occur to him, which is probably good, it's  _ 'intimacy' _ .

Snickering as well, "Or the pool guy, but we don't have a pool... dishwasher repair?" He's mentally going over the really bad porn he's seen and the 'jobs' the guys did. "I could snake your pipes."

Dean laughs again at that, then he gasps. "Oooh. Doctor Sexy. Treating a troubled-but-sexy patient who just can't stop touching himself."

Sam loses it, laughing deeply, "PUDDING!" Remembering the time they were in a psych ward and Dean dropped his pants to throw the nurse off as to why they were in the morgue.

They cling to each other and Dean laughs so hard he has real tears in his eyes. This time they've spent since Sam got back is already part of Dean's Heaven road. Should be on Sam's too. 

They're gonna be there together someday.


	8. Chapter 8

Crowley stands beside Dean after Sam steps through, he looks at him, "You're sure about this? You want him back?"

Dean says, "Yeah. That was what I asked you for. I wanted him back. And you did it." He doesn't have the other Dean's history with Crowley. To him Crowley has been a good guy the whole time. "I owe you. Thank you."

Shaking his head, "Don't owe me. Oh, nearly forgot, here." Passing him a small flat stone about the size of a quarter, "Keep this with you, if you need me, hold it and say my name. I want you to stay safe, especially if he turns bad again."  He owed this kid a lot if what his alter-ego said was true, and he would protect him.

Dean nods, and puts in in his pocket. "I'll remember. Thanks." Just the knowledge that he can call for help will give him strength. But no matter what, Sam will not be turning bad again.

"All right. Showtime." The portal wobbles and out steps Sam, whose eyes flick between Dean and the King of Hell (as he has learned). He sucks in a gasp and looks back to Dean, "Dean? Am I... am I going to Hell?"

"I hope not," Dean says. He doesn't actually know about that. "Not right now, anyway." It's strange. His Sam looks - a little  _ smaller  _ than the one he's come to know. He is younger, too, but - Maybe it's just that Sam doesn't have powers anymore, and he carries himself differently. Maybe it's that Dean is looking right at him without being afraid of what Sam might do to him for looking the wrong way.

Crowley gets between them and right up in Sam's - chest, having to tip his head back to look up at him. "You listen up and listen good. You so much as lay a finger on him and Hell will be a  _ vacation  _ to what I have planned for you. Now, kid's got my number, don't make him use it."   Sam pales and nods, a tremble in his tall frame. "I won't." And Crowley is just gone - no smoke or sounds, just vanished.  

Sam drops to his knees in front of Dean. "I'm so sorry, Dean."

Dean looks down at him, puts his hand on Sam's head and wonders how he's supposed to feel. He's not sure yet. "Look at me," he says, softly, but not a request. He needs to look into Sam's eyes and see if it's really him in there, still there, after everything.

Sam lifts his face to him, his eyes are watery with unshed tears, "I'm not asking for forgiveness, but... please, Dean, let me stay, let me try and make it up to you."

Dean hears what he's saying, but he's looking into Sam's wet eyes, looking for  _ him _ . Finally he blinks and says, "It  _ is  _ you." He can't keep from smiling. " _ My _ Sam." His hand is on Sam's cheek. 

Sam cups the hand and presses his cheek into it, turning his head and pressing kisses to the soft skin. "I'm so sorry, I love you... I won't ever hurt you again, I swear on my life, Dean," Looking up at him again, "I'll do anything you say, anything to even  _ try  _ and make any of it up to you."

Dean looks down at him and says, calmly, though his heart is beating fast, "First thing. We don't ever go back to that house." The place he ran away from, where he had been chained. "I never want to see it again."

Sam nods his head, "Is there anything you want from there?"

"No." Flatly. It's not like he can shut his memories off, but he refuses to trigger them on purpose. "Nothing. And if there's something you want, you can go get it without me." What could Dean want from there? What had he owned?

Sam shakes his head. "I'll have a someone clean it out, destroy it all."

"Good," says Dean. "Here's what else I want. I want us to be hunters again." He'd been thinking about it, but it crystallized when Sam came through and asked if he was going to Hell. "You want to stay with me, then come with me and fight monsters. Like we were supposed to do." His hand is in Sam's hair now and it tightens a little, "And  _ never  _ demon blood again. Ever. For any reason.  _ Ever _ . Not even if you think it would save my life. Do you hear me?"

Sam tries to nod but the grip in his hair is too tight, "Yes, Dean. No demon blood, for any reason."

Dean releases his grip on Sam's hair. It's what he wants to hear, and Sam seems to mean it. But he's troubled by the answer. "Do me a favor," he says hoarsely. "Don't 'Yes, Dean' me like things are just turned around and I'm the master now. I don't want that. You can get up, too."

Nodding, "I was just trying to show I meant it." Slowly getting to his feet, keeping his movements as small as his big body will allow. "Would you let me hug you?"

Dean's answer is to fling himself at Sam, arms around his neck, and do the hugging himself. "Yes. God, Sam." Holding him tight, "Missed you so much."

Sam wraps his arms around him, hoisting Dean off his feet, "Me too. I didn't realize... so, so sorry Dean. I never wanted to hurt you."

Dean's fingertips dig into Sam's neck and shoulder.  _ "Don't lift me up."  _ He doesn't  _ plan  _ to say it, doesn't have time. But he  _ can't _ , being lifted off his feet is something he's had too much of. The moment his feet touch the floor again he relaxes. He has to bite his tongue to keep himself from  _ apologizing _ .

Gently letting him go, "I'm sorry... I... are you all right? Did I hurt you?" He had beaten him up awfully before this all happened.

"I'm fine." Dean makes a face. "Mostly fine. But I don't like you picking me up, all right, don't do it anymore. Stuff -  _ reminds  _ me. Physically. If I tell you stop something just stop it. I don't think I should have to explain why."

Sam shakes his head, "I... wanted to make sure you weren't hurt is all. I won't ask again." He would take his cues from Dean now, to see where their limits were. "Can I... take your hand?"

"Yeah." Sam takes his hand. Dean squeezes it. "Kiss me?"

Leaning down to meet his lips, letting Dean guide how intense the kiss gets, gently licking into his mouth.

Dean leans into him, tasting him, breathing him in, and it's like  _ coming home.  _ Oh God. His own Sam.  _ Really  _ home, really  _ here _ .

Gently nibbling on Dean's lower lip before parting, "Dean... I know we can't start again... but could we... I don't know... try and date or something?"

_ "Sam."  _ He grips Sam's shoulders. "I was willing to  _ sell my soul  _ to get you - YOU - back. And you think we can't start again? Date, hell. Take me to bed."

His mouth opens and closes like a fish, "I... You... uh… y'sure?" He looks bashful and a bit sheepish, but his blood is certainly pooling below his belt.

" _ Yeah _ I'm sure. I love you. I want us to be together. We belong together. In any world we belong together."

Lifting his hand to his lips, "Then lead the way." He does have to suppress the need to pick Dean up, but he had promised not to do it again.

Dean pulls him to the guest bedroom this time, sits him down on the bed, pushes him onto his back and climbs on top of him. There's a little bit of bravado in it, but when nothing horrible happens in response he can relax again. They can't just snap fingers and reset to before, of course. They have to sort of find their way back to it. "You're mine," he says to Sam. "My Sam."

Nodding, "Completely and utterly yours." He's so turned on he can't think, and he certainly isn't thinking of the other Dean, he's hardly a blip on the radar right now. Particularly faced with his own Dean who is taking charge and taking no prisoners. "God Dean... you're amazing." Reaching up to cup his face gently, "Take me if you want."

"Yeah, I do want." He remembers to go get lube from where it was left, and undressing Sam is fun. The look on Sam's face is a little like when they were young and first trying everything. And Dean is slow and gentle with his fingers for a good long time first, like then.

Keeping his touch gentle, his movements as controlled as he can, he doesn't want to spook Dean. They roll around on the bed, twisting and rubbing against each other, moaning his name as often as he can. When Dean's fingers breach him it's magic, but then torture as he plays and toys, never quite enough friction or in the right spot to get Sam off. "Dean... please please..."

"Yeah?" Kissing him just because he can - he's going to become a glutton for that. "All you gotta say is 'please'." And then he gives Sam what he wants, now he's ready enough to say 'please': good and hard and aimed exactly where he knows will give him the most pleasure. Sam is incredible, it's been so, so long since they did this and Sam is so beautiful, his own true Sam who loves him.

Moaning as he's breached, Dean isn't small at all, thick and hot and just damn freaking wonderful. Why had he ever given this up?

Dean rears up on his knees to look down over Sam, flushed and panting and moaning for him. "You feel so good, Sammy. Oh God it's been so long, baby boy, my sweet thing." Lazily stroking Sam's cock to push him a little closer to the edge.

Reaching up for him, "C'mere... wanna kiss you when I come."

Dean gladly complies with that, kissing Sam and thrusting a little faster in excitement and anticipation. He wants to feel that around him, Sam coming while Dean's inside him.

Cupping Dean's head with his long fingers as they kiss, tongue rubbing against his. It doesn't take much, Dean's faster harder thrusts soon have him convulsing and clenching around him.

It's perfection, everything he could have wished for, his Sam shaking all over and rippling in waves around Dean's cock and Dean cries out into Sam's mouth as he goes with him. He comes hard, shaking too, deep inside Sam.  _ Perfection _ .

Breaking his mouth away to pant heavily, "Dean... God, Dean!" Wrapping his arms around him, stroking his back.

***

In the six months since his return, Sam has built them a new house on the property adjacent to Bobby's. It's small, but it has all they need, a master bedroom, luxurious bath, massive kitchen and a huge room with sofas and the biggest TV he could get his hands on. Baby is parked in a spacious garage, a late 60's Mustang sits beside her still being rebuilt. 

Sam is putting the finishing touches on breakfast then carrying it to their bedroom. Dean has put on weight and is now starting to work out and bulk up, he's gorgeous. 

Carrying in the tray and setting it at the end of his side of the bed, coming around the other side to lean in and wake Dean with soft kisses all over his face. "Good morning, lover."

Dean wallows up from deep, deep sleep. Working out has made his appetite for food and sleep and sex all sharper, his body no longer confined, his only problems tend to come from wanting to do everything at once. He opens his eyes to Sam, and blinking up at him, he smiles. "Good morning to you too." His arm slides around Sam's shoulders and pulls him half into the bed. "Did you make breakfast? Or are  _ you  _ breakfast."

Sam smiles, nuzzling at his lips and jaw, "Both if you want, but the food might get cold if you have me first."

Dean kisses him, hands sliding under Sam's shirt, but then he smells what Sam made and groans against his neck. "Ooooh is that French toast." His stomach and his cock are at an impasse. "How about you take your clothes off and help me eat?"

Sam chuckles, "Well if you insist." He stands and lets Dean sit up in bed then sets the over loaded tray over his lap, there is indeed French toast as well as Eggs Benedict with Hollandaise sauce, hash browns and fresh orange juice. Sam strips off the T-shirt and drops he boxers he has on before crawling in next to Dean.

"You're spoiling me. It isn't anybody's birthday," Dean says warmly, reaching for the juice first. It's not a complaint. Sam sort of overdid 'making things up to Dean' a little in the early days since they've been back together, but they found their normal rhythm of being together while they built their new home. He rests one hand on Sam's bare thigh, just for the pleasure of touching him.

Sam's long arm easily reaches the tray and starts cutting up a bite of French toast for him, "I enjoy spoiling you." Kissing his cheek, "And you know you like being spoiled." Lifting up the fork towards his mouth, "Ah."

Dean's "Ah," fades into "Mmm." He won't say it again to Sam, because he doesn't deliberately remind Sam of the old times - but if he'd had to actually pay for his wish with his soul, as he'd intended, he  _ still  _ would have thought it was worth it. It's not like just rewinding and getting Sam as he used to be back again - this Sam is older and wiser, and so is Dean. He understands on some level that for all Sam hurt him, Sam was suffering too. 

Sam leans in and licks the syrup from his lips, "Love you."

His heart surges warm inside him. Dean is  _ happy _ . He still has the stone that Crowley gave him.  He keeps it, because they are hunting again, and maybe they'll get in some other kind of a jam someday. But he knows with his whole heart that he will never need it because of Sam. "Love you too, Sammy." 

***

"Come  _ on  _ Dean!!! The show's about to start!" He already has the bowls of popcorn, the nachos and beers on the coffee table where the TV was. He has no idea what Dean is up to, but their show starts in two minutes.

Dean hesitates just outside the room. His heart is pounding. And he's a little bit...  _ cold _ . He licks his lips and calls out, "Uh, Sam...? Could you make me a one time promise here, not to laugh at me.... even if I look like an idiot?"

This gains Sam's attention and he sits up straighter, "Okay. I won't laugh, promise."

"Okay," Dean says, bravely, but it still takes him a minute to actually sidle into the room. He is almost naked. He is sort of -  _ more  _ than naked really, because all he's got on besides a burning-hot blush is a pair of silky panties. He told Sam that secret, months ago, and it had turned Sam on - Dean was sure of it. Last time he went out on a supply run, he bought a couple of pairs. 

Sam pops to his feet, jaw hanging open as he works at trying to say something. He looks from Dean to the TV and back again. "Just... _ don't move!"  _ Turning back to the TV and making sure the recording was set, "Now you better  _ run!"  _ Leaping over the sofa and tearing after him.

Dean bursts out laughing as he pelts off down the hall, bare feet slapping the tiled floors. He's  _ happy _ . He has every intention of being caught, but a little chase first will whet both their appetites a little bit more. They can watch Game of Thrones later. Much much later. Right now there is Sam in hot pursuit right behind him.

Sam bounces off walls in his pursuit of the panty clad Dean, finally catching him around the waist and pressing him up against the wall. Holding his wrists to the wall so he can have a good long look at him, "Wow... aren't you sexy, look at you." Putting both wrists in his big hand and stroking the fingers of his other down Dean's chest, skimming along the edge of the panties.

Dean wriggles, not to get away, but to rub up against Sam's hand. "I thought we'd make out in front of the TV. I didn't realize these were - action panties." Grin.

Sliding his hand down to cup that delicious erection half visible in the panties, "You dress like  _ this  _ and think I can focus on anything other than you?"

"Well I thought we'd record it, anyway." He pushes into Sam's big, hot hand.

"Have been since we got here, now... what to do with you." Scraping lightly with his nails across the fabric. "Maybe I should tie you down to the bed and have my wicked way with you."

Dean looks at him sidelong through his eyelashes and gives him a smile. "You could do that. I wouldn't struggle... Much."

Sam growls in pleasure and both hands close around the firm globes of Dean's ass and lift him up so that he's forced to lock his legs around Sam's waist and arms around his neck. Mouth locking with Dean's, keeping him pressed to the wall and rocking their hips together.

Dean clings to Sam like an octopus (an octopus dude in panties) and revels in it. Sam, his sweet gentle Sam, loves doing it up against the wall and has a way of making love with the perfect amount of violence. Dean loves it. They can be soft and sweet, sometimes, but Dean was  _ totally  _ hoping that wearing those panties would set Sam off.  _ Yes!  _

Stepping back and keeping Dean up in his embrace, "I'm gonna wreck you." Turning and carrying him toward their bedrooms, hands groping and kneading Dean's ass as he does. He wants to take his time utterly destroying Dean with pleasure, and  _ that  _ requires a bed.

"That's right lover." He wouldn't like it all the time, but just at the moment, he loves it that Sam can pick him up. Sam's hands stay on his ass the whole time, that helps sell the whole thing, but strutting in with nothing but panties on (he didn't strut, he slunk, but still) had totally been a "hey big boy, time to top my brains out" move and Dean is enjoying the results.

Once in Sam's room he kisses Dean before letting him drop and bounce on the bed, "No memory foam for me." They slept better in Dean's bed, but the sex was better in Sam's. Stripping out of his clothing and crawling up over Dean to kiss him breathless, once he has his eyes go soft for a moment, "Love you so much, De."

Dean has one arm around Sam's neck and the other around his waist. All those years they wasted not touching the way they both wanted to - they're making up for it now. "Love you too, Sammy."


End file.
